


Obsidian

by RJ04



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Jötunn Loki, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:27:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 32,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJ04/pseuds/RJ04
Summary: "In times of need, the province of Skali has always sent aid to Asgard and now, I am afraid, we must ask for aid in return. Our small town has been plagued by a serious problem for some time now."I chuckled, already guessing what sort of problems Lord Dagson might be facing. Most likely, not enough gold to satisfy his greed."We have reason to believe a vigilante is stationed in Skali."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone, this is my first fanfic so I hope you guys like it. It is also posted on Wattpad and FanFiction under the same name. Thanks for reading!

LOKI  
_"I would like to begin this letter by giving my sincere condolences concerning the death of your father. Odin was a wise and excellent king, and I am sure you and your family are still mourning his loss."_  
I rolled my eyes, recognizing the beginning of the letter as one I had seen countless times before. I could already guess what the rest of the note would read-I was so happy when I heard you had become king! I always thought you were the right choice. Then, more subtly, whichever lord or lady was writing would ask for more supplies, more men, more money. With the changing of a king came a changing of favor, and now everyone was vying for mine.  
" _Of course, there is still cause for celebration in the realm. Your acceptance of the crown was a truly joyous occasion for my family and me, as we all believe you will follow in the footsteps of your father and be as superb a leader."_  
I yawned, wondering if I should even bother to continue.  
" _At this point, I think it fit to remind you of the Dagson's commitment and service to the royal family. In times of need, the province of Skali has always sent aid to Asgard and now, I am afraid, we must ask for aid in return. Our small town has been plagued by a serious problem for some time now."_  
I chuckled, already guessing what sort of problems Lord Dagson might be facing. Most likely, not enough gold to satisfy his greed.  
" _We have reason to believe a vigilante is stationed in Skali."_  
I sat up in my throne, interest suddenly piqued. A vigilante? That certainly was cause for concern.  
" _A criminal known as "Obsidia" by the commoners has been stealing from honest citizens in our town. Normally, this sort of filthy thief could easily be taken care of by my guards. However, Obsidia has garnered the protection of the people, as they believe her to be some sort of savior. The worst part of the whole matter is that instead of taking gold or valuables, this criminal prefers to steal important documents and political secrets from members of the upper class. She then proceeds to make these private affairs public, believing herself to be 'freeing Skali from the shackles of secrecy.'_  
_I am sure as king you have many problems of your own to take care of, but my family and I are begging you to spare a few men and help us apprehend this scoundrel. I have instructed the messenger to deliver this letter as quickly as possible, for we are in dire need of assistance."_  
-Kispin Dagson  
The paper was stamped with his seal, verifying that it was truly the lord of Skali who had written it. I set the letter down, unsure of what to do. It had been so long since anything of interest had happened in Asgard that at first, my only reaction was to reread the entire message over again.  
Upon finally absorbing the full meaning of Kispin's message, I leapt from my throne and began pacing the room. A vigilante! A vigilante in Asgard! It did not escape my realization that how I decided to deal with this problem would be my first act as king. The letter had called for at least a few extra helpers, but it seemed Dagson's men had been unable to stop this criminal themselves. I doubted ten more soldiers would do much.  
I looked back at the pile of papers sitting next to the throne. More letters to be read, forms to be signed, laws to review. Coming to a decision, I strode out of the room, flinging the thick wooden doors open. The two men assigned to guard the throne room jumped in surprise, but quickly fell into step behind me as I started down the hall.  
"Prepare a horse," I told them as I started up the stairs leading to my room. "I'm leaving the city."


	2. Chapter Two

THOR  
I had only just arrived to the palace when I saw my brother leaving. “Loki!” I called out, catching him just as he was hurrying purposefully out of the castle. He came to a halt at my voice, but I could sense his displeasure at being stopped. I dismounted from the horse I had just rode in on, leaving the rest of my hunting party behind. I noticed that Loki was carrying a large pack and had changed into riding clothes.  
“Going somewhere?” I asked as I caught up to him.  
“Yes, actually,” he replied. When he made no attempt to elaborate, I pressed him further.  
“Where? What matter takes you from the city so quickly?”  
“There’s a problem in Skali,” he explained, now resigned to having a longer conversation than he had intended to. Although he was not nearly as distant as he had been before, ever since Loki had arrived in Asgard, miraculously alive, it seemed he’d been avoiding me. I supposed that was simply because he was Loki. He was not known for his patience or love of socializing.  
“What sort of problem?” I asked, intrigued as to what issue could be so important that the king himself would leave the palace. This was one of the many reasons I had turned the throne over to my brother as soon as he had returned. Only a few years ago, I had been prepared to rule the realm and wage wars on Asgard’s enemies. Now, I knew kingship entailed long, uneventful months of remaining within the castle walls.  
“A vigilante is causing trouble in the area,” Loki replied. “I’ve decided to put a stop to her personally.” He took a step forward, but I would not let him go so easily.  
“Wait. Is this vigilante Obsidia?”  
My brother seemed surprised that I had heard of her. “Yes. How did you know? Did Lord Dagson contact you as well?”  
“You’ve been in that palace too long, brother,” I laughed. “Everyone knows of the hero Obsidia.”  
The corners of Loki’s mouth turned down at my use of the term hero. “Lord Dagson certainly did not make her out to be any sort of hero in his letter.”  
“That is because he is a rich nobleman,” I replied. “Obsidia is a symbol of the commonfolk. Many think she is one.”  
“And do you share this belief? That she is but a member of the lower class?”  
“She certainly does not fight like one.”  
“You’ve seen her fight?” Loki asked, even more incredulous. I had taken an interest in this particular “criminal” after hearing of her escapades, but I decided to let my brother believe it was common knowledge. Hopefully, upon realizing how ignorant he was on the topic of his mission, he would not protest too much when I insisted on coming with him.  
“Of course! The villagers line the streets to see her confront Dagson’s men. She is a master at swordsmanship,” I continued. “How do you think she’s evaded all of Kispin’s soldiers for so long?”  
Loki hesitated, and for the first time I saw uncertainty pass across his face. “From your description, I gather she will not be an easy target to capture.”  
“No, although the task would be less difficult if two gods faced her instead of one,” I pointed out.  
Loki sighed deeply, but I could tell he had given in even before the words escaped his mouth. “Very well, brothe-Thor,” he corrected himself. I tried not to let my disappointment show at his insistence to deny our relation. It was true that the blood that flowed through our veins was not the same, but after his sacrifice at Svartalfheim, I had considered us brothers once again. It appeared he did not share the notion. “I suppose it would be best if you were to accompany me to Skali.”  
My disappointment soon turned to triumph at his acceptance. “Excellent. I shall be ready in a moment.”


	3. Chapter Three

ARIS  
“I am here to free Skali from the shackles of secrecy!” I shouted, my cloak rustling around my ankles as I stepped forward on the wooden box that served as my platform. “I am here to usher in a new era!”  
The crowd around me, numbering at least a hundred people, shouted their agreement. “An era of truth!” I yelled. “An era of equality!” Every word whipped the crowd into a frenzy, their chanting voices all merging together into a single cry for change. “An era...of light!”  
The customary ending to all my speeches summoned a final cheer from the ocean of people around me. It was also at this point that Dagson’s guards entered the scene. I caught sight of them out of the corner of my eye, my gloved fist still raised victoriously in the air. “Catch her!” I heard one of them scream. It was a voice I knew well.  
One hundred heads all turned in unison towards the figure of Gaerhialm Hamingsson, captain of the Skalin guard and my sworn enemy. He strode into the courtyard I had been speaking in, shoving listeners out of the way to reach me. His fellow enforcers were already attempting to arrest as many people as they could, for Dagson had announced that condoning the actions of the criminal Obsidia was against the law, and even being present in my vicinity without attempting to apprehend me was considered a crime.  
I leapt down from the stack of wooden crates I had been perched on, my boots barely having touched the ground before I was running, my cloak flapping behind me like a trail of smoke. The common folk threw themselves into the way of Hamingsson, determined to slow his progress, but for me, they scrambled to clear a path. I put their help to good use, cutting easily through the courtyard and turning down an alleyway the guards had not yet blocked off.  
“After her!” Hamingsson screamed at the nearest soldier before one middle-aged farmer leapt onto his back. He was pulled down into the crowd, where a mob of Skalins tackled him as well, but I knew better than to underestimate my opponent. It would not take long for Hamingsson to escape the crowd, but by then I intended to be long gone.   
The shouting of the crowd was replaced by heavy footsteps as I raced through the alleys of Skali, Dagson’s guards in hot pursuit. Judging by the thunderous noise they generated, I estimated there was at least a dozen tailing me. One was uncomfortably close. I would have to remedy that.  
I turned another corner, finding the alley perfect for my needs. A woman was just laying out her dress on a low-hanging clothing line, but upon seeing a stampede of guards charging down the street, she hurried back inside. Without missing a beat, I reached for the line, the closest guard passing under me as I used my momentum to swing up and through the air. My knuckles tightening on the line, I swung up and around to give the passing guard a kick to the head. I landed on top of him as he fell to the ground, delivering another blow to his skull. Confident that he was unconscious, I continued running.  
I risked a quick glance behind me. To my delight, there were only ten men chasing me, less than my original guess. I was close to my desired destination, but three more guards were beginning to draw nearer as well. I noticed I was growing slower, unable to keep up my breakneck pace. Stopping to take out any more guards would take too much time. I would have to rely on luck to outrun them.  
As it turned out, luck was on my side but, more importantly, so was old lady Asvor.   
I passed Glaston Lane, which marked the final stretch. However, the distance between myself and the fastest of the guards was dwindling. Just as he made a swipe for my cloak, Asvor stuck her head out the window.  
As I had gained more support, becoming known less as a vigilante and more as a hero among the townsmen of Skali, the people had begun to show their favor of me in very prominent ways. Now was an example of such instances. The old woman leaned out of her narrow window, holding a bucket of water in her bony hands. Just as the guards passed under her, she dumped its contents onto their heads.   
It turned out that the water was boiling hot and the several men that had been hit stopped to claw at their burning faces in agony. This caused a backup, preventing the rest of the group from pursuing me as the guards toppled on top of each other, trying to get through. “Thank you!” I shouted up at the elderly woman, who was beaming at her handiwork. As I rounded the final corner, I yanked off my black cloak and dove into the throng of people I had known would be there. It was Sunday, the busiest day at the Skalin marketplace, and I had purposely placed the location of my speech near it for this exact reason. As I slipped into the crowd I quickly stuffed the cloak into my satchel. Over the years that I had been active, I had ensured that no guard had ever seen the face of Obsidia, so now I was lost to them in the crowd.   
Judging by the rageful shouting that came from the direction of the alley I had just left, they knew it too.  
I made sure to slow to a leisurely walking pace. Running would only make me stand out, and at this point putting distance between the guards and I was simply a precaution. They would never be able to find me in such a large group of people, even if they did know what I looked like.   
As I strolled through the street, the scent of meat caught my attention. Mouth watering, I closed in on a stall selling pieces of roasted Strotmite skewered on a stick and purchased one. I felt I deserved it after such a daring escape, although I admitted to myself that it had been a close call and I would need to be more cautious in the future.  
I moved to the side of the street to enjoy my reward without the threat of being bowled over by a wagon or horse. I surveyed the crowd, picking out the smattering of guards dressed in distinctive Skalin yellow, frantically asking people if they had seen a figure in a black cloak run by. To my satisfaction, all the answers they received appeared to be negative. I tore a piece of Strotmite off the stick with my teeth, enjoying the entertainment the discouraged guards provided.  
“Aris! Hey, Aris!” I heard someone shout. I turned in the direction of the noise, trying to determine who was calling me. Iri emerged out of the crowd, his thin legs stumbling over the uneven cobblestones. He hurried over to me, green eyes sparkling with excitement.  
“Aris, did you hear?” he asked breathlessly. It was clear he had run all the way here, a surprising feat for my younger brother. Iri was small, both in height and in body type. He was already 1,019 and he had yet to develop even the slightest definition of muscle, which was to the severe disappointment of our father.  
“Hear what?” I responded although I knew exactly as to what he was referring to.  
“Obsidia is here!” he exclaimed, looking around after he said the words as if she might appear at any second. Upon observing my lack of enthusiasm, he repeated the news with more emphasis. “Did you hear me, Aris? Obsidia is here. In the marketplace!”  
I shrugged. “So?”   
“So?” he repeated, amazed at my lack of emotion. “So, how are you so calm? She could be standing right next to us. The Obsidia could be standing right next to us!”  
“I know, I heard you the first time,” I sighed, swallowing another chunk of meat. Unfortunately for me, Iri had taken great interest in my vigilante counterpart as soon as I had started my thefts. Now, he looked up to Obsidia as his role model and wanted desperately to discover her identity. Iri was the only one I felt I could trust with my secret, but I knew he would tell Mother, who would never allow me to continue if she knew about the dangerous activities I partook in during the nighttime hours. So, my secret identity remained just that-a secret.  
“I don’t understand how you could not care about Obsidia,” he continued, refusing to accept my indifference. “You, of all people! Obsidia stands for everything you believe in. She ruins the reputations of the upperclassmen. You know, the lords and ladies you always say have too much power?”  
It physically pained me to say it, but I ground out, “Obsidia is a criminal. No one should be allowed to disregard the law of Asgard.”  
Iri gaped at me, clearly wondering if I was really his sister or someone else entirely. There was not much we agreed on, as we had very divergent personalities, possibly due to the fact that we weren’t truly related. The Kadalssons had adopted me into their home soon after finding me abandoned on the streets of Skali. Still, despite our differences, he had always assumed this would be one point we’d both agree on. I had avoided talking to Iri about Obsidia, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to say. I didn’t want to encourage his interest for the fear that he might discover my secret, but I also didn’t want to arouse his suspicion by not being interested myself. After all, what he said was true: Obsidia did stand for everything I believed in.  
“We should go...pick up some things for Mom,” I decided, trying to direct the conversation away from our current topic. Thankfully, Iri was easily distracted.  
“Oh, that’s why I’m here,” he told me, reentering the crowd. We shuffled along with the lines of other Skalins. “Mom sent me to pick up some fabrics for her. She also wanted to know where you were.”  
“I was...meeting up with friends,” I said quickly, keeping my excuse as vague as possible. Luck was once again on my side, as Iri didn’t seem to require more of an answer.  
“Here, Mom gave me this list,” he said, producing a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. I noticed how dusty his loose, white shirt and pants were.  
“Are those the same clothes you were wearing yesterday?” I demanded.  
Iri looked down at his attire. “Oh yeah, I guess so.” I sighed. Appearances were not something my brother cared to waste his time on-this much was evident by his uneven haircut and the smear of grease on his face. I, on the other hand, had to carefully pick out my clothes. They were always a dark color to blend in with my cloak, and they had to fit perfectly. If my pants were too long, I risked tripping, but if anything was too tight, I could be hindered while fighting. Today, knowing I might have run into trouble at my speech, I had chosen loose black pants and a brown shirt. My feet and hands were protected by heavy work boots and gloves.  
“What’s first on the list?” I asked, peering over Iri’s shoulder to read it. “We should split up so we can finish quickly.”  
“Uh...three bolts of silk,” he replied. “Have you got money?” I nodded, patting the satchel I always wore at my side. “Good. I’ll go get the wool. And hey, who knows? Maybe I’ll meet Obsidia on the way!” he chuckled.  
I smiled along with him, hoping he couldn’t detect the underlying tone of concern in my laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, I'm so sorry but I totally screwed up the order of these chapters. I've been copying and pasting them from a document and I didn't even realize the order was wrong until someone told me (thank you soo much, btw). I'm not totally sure how badly I misordered these or if it was just one chapter, so I'll be going through and re-ordering them. If you had been reading before this date, sorry for any confusion! None of the chapter content is being changed, just the order. Hopefully, the story will make a lot more sense now! For anyone who has started reading more recently, no worries! The chapters are in the correct order now.

LOKI  
I was already regretting bringing Thor along.  
“And so there I was, surrounded on all sides by my enemies. The fight looked hopeless-it seemed I was unlikely to survive!” he narrated, continuing his story.  
“You seem to have survived,” I drawled, rolling my eyes. The brown steed I’d chosen for the trip stumbled over a patch of uneven ground and I jerked forward in my saddle. I did not prefer to travel by horse, but Skali was only a day’s ride from the city. I had assumed that using horses would’ve been faster than procuring a ship. So, that was two mistakes made today.   
I righted myself in the saddle, hoping Thor had not noticed I’d nearly fallen off. Thankfully, he was too engrossed in his battle story. “Well yes, I did, but it certainly didn’t seem like I would. I was facing off against seven giants-”  
“Seven?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was six.”  
“No, no, that was in Alfheim,” Thor corrected.  
“They all sound the same,” I groaned, “and they all end the same. You obliterate your enemies, gaining your warriors’ everlasting respect and restoring peace to the land.”  
“Well, it isn’t as if you were adding anything to the conversation, brother,” he pointed out. I had stopped correcting his use of the term ‘brother, as he seemed determined to continue the irksome habit.  
“Only because nothing of interest ever happens at the castle,” I replied. “The last exciting thing I did was get stabbed in the chest.”  
“Starting to regret becoming king, are we?” Thor asked with a smile.  
“No,” I stated vehemently. More calmly, I added, “It’s only been three months. The realm is just...adjusting.”  
“Right,” he agreed, not at all sincerely. I glared at him.  
“Why? Do you want the throne back?”  
“I would not take it back for anything,” he chuckled. “Although I do not know if the people of Asgard will ever truly accept you as king.”  
My mood soured even more, mostly because I knew Thor was right. “They will accept me,” I insisted. “They will have to.”  
“I have been spreading word of your bravery at Svartalfheim,” he told me, “although perhaps you would appear more trustworthy if you explained how, exactly, you managed to survive.”  
“I already told you, Thor, my sorcery gives me healing capabilities that far surpass the average Asgardian.”  
“Do those capabilities include reviving yourself from the dead? Because I watched you fall with my own eyes,” he said, still unconvinced. I almost found myself growing angry at his insistence that I was lying, before remembering I was lying.  
“I do not know what else to tell you, brother,” I replied, striving to look as innocent as possible.   
“I know when you are lying, Loki,” Thor insisted, but he allowed the argument to end there, realizing that he would not get a straight answer out of me. We continued to ride in silence. I surveyed the landscape, trying to determine how close we were to our destination.  
Skali had a primarily agricultural industry, its main export being sugar. It was one of the more prosperous districts, as it had taken advantage of its proximity to a port, using the Sea of Marmora to send its products to other realms. To the best of my knowledge, most of the wealth acquired through these exports went to the upper-class citizens of the city.   
The scenery had indeed changed from the sleek, modern architecture of Asgard to rolling green hills and farmland. In the distance, I could make out a trail of smoke, snaking out of a small house.  
The two guards I had taken with us apparently noticed this as well. “Sire, we will reach Skali by nightfall,” one of them informed me.  
“Good,” I said. “We have much work to do.”


	5. Chapter 5

THOR  
We arrived at the city just as the sun was setting over the countryside. We had passed several small clusters of homes in Skali and were about to cross into the city itself when Loki stopped us.  
“Wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “We should not let our presence be known just yet.”  
“What? Why?” I asked. My brother had always been adept at the art of disguise, but I did not see the necessity for it now. Judging by the exasperated look on his face, I guessed that I should have.  
“We are here to apprehend a criminal,” he replied. “It would not exactly be wise to alert her of our intentions by making a scene. Why do you think I brought so few guards?”  
I considered Loki’s reasoning, now understanding why he had been so adamantly opposed to taking more soldiers with us. Odin had always been followed by an entourage of at least ten when traveling the realm. “But our mere arrival in the city would not necessarily mean we were here for her,” I pointed out.  
“And what other reason would we have? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re surrounded by farmland. Not exactly the prime vacation spot for the royal family.”  
“I suppose so,” I consented. “But I do not like the idea of lying to our countrymen.”  
“It’s not lying,” Loki replied, lifting the hood of his dark green cloak and casting his face into shadow. I did the same with my brown cape and urged my horse over the city line. “We’re just...withholding information. Not the same as lying.”  
“Yes, well, you’d know. Lying is one of your favorite pastimes, isn’t it?”  
Instead of becoming offended, which I had fully expected him to do at my gibe, Loki released a laugh as he rode in behind me. Although I had chosen not to comment on it, I had noticed how awkwardly he sat on his horse. I suppose it was not surprising. While I had been learning useful skills, like combat and horsemanship, my brother had been holed up in his room, practicing sorcery and the likes. As a child, I had never understood his ability or interest in it, and even now, the full extent of his powers still remained a mystery to me. For this reason, I still considered his story regarding the events following his death at Svartalfheim a real possibility, but my brother rarely told the truth the first time.  
As we rode into Skali, it appeared that our disguises were unnecessary; only a few villagers were outside at such a late hour, and only one paid any attention to us. She had fair skin and dark hair, which was wrapped into a bun at the back of her head. The girl, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen, was clutching a satchel and seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere, but stopped in her tracks to scrutinize us as we passed by on our way to the castle.  
Loki rode up beside me. “That girl-do you think she saw us?”  
“Well, she looked right at us.”  
He rolled his eyes. “I meant, do you think she recognized us,” he corrected.  
“She couldn’t have. Not from that distance,” I assured him as we rode away, but I could not shake the feeling of the girl’s eyes boring into the back of my head.


	6. Chapter Six

ARIS  
I knew I shouldn’t have stared for so long, but something about the travelers had caught my attention. It had not escaped my notice how low the hoods of their capes were pulled over their faces, or how the one dressed in green pulled his down even further upon noticing my gaze. Somehow, I got the sense that they were hiding something.  
I, of all people, knew the purpose of a hood.  
I had intended to sneak into Dagson palace, a feat I’d accomplished many times before. All it required was finding an entrance-not a difficult task, considering how many windows and doors were left unlocked-and pretending to be a member of the palace staff. Out of all of my various targets, Kispin was the one I harbored the most hatred for and his castle was the one I frequented most often, and yet I still had not found any concrete evidence of his wrongdoings.   
I knew he must be doing something nefarious. It was true that Skali was not a poor city, but I had been within the palace’s wall, and what I had seen there did not add up with the amount of income our small, seaside town brought in.   
However, I decided that tonight I would follow these newcomers instead. After they had ridden a good distance away, I slipped behind a building to pull on my cloak. I had grown proficient at hiding in the shadows and remaining unseen; it was one of the tricks of the trade when you were a thief of secrets.  
I had taken note of their direction and backtracked, making a turn into the complex system of alleyways within Skali. The winding and confusing mess of streets had saved my neck more than once after I had taken the time to meticulously memorize every road and corner, and tonight they would help me again.  
As I made my way down the paths, I flitted in and out of the light cast by the occasional lantern or candle, feeling exposed every time I passed in front of their glow. Although the sources of light were far and few between, I still quickened my pace when I came across one.   
In under five minutes, I emerged at the end of the street I had seen the two mysterious figures traveling down, arriving there before them even with a several minute late start. It was then that I noticed two other figures lurking in the shadows on the opposite side of the street, although they had yet to see me.  
Instead of simply walking across the road, I made a wide circle around the pair before creeping up behind them, although it seemed the precaution was unnecessary. They were engrossed in their conversation and were not being overly discreet, their voices carrying easily to me even as I remained a few feet behind them.  
“He’s the king! We have to obey him,” one of them said.  
“He’s not the rightful king. Thor should be king,” the other insisted. I frowned, realizing they could only be talking about Loki, the newly crowned ruler of Asgard. It was not an uncommon subject throughout the realm, as he hadn’t exactly proven himself to be the right choice, but I wondered why the two chose to speak of it now, and in the shadows no less. There were few that would disagree with the latter man’s statement.  
“Quiet!” the first traveler hissed. “You know Loki has...abilities. He could probably hear us from a mile away. We should get going. Thor told us to stay ahead of them, so we wouldn’t draw attention.”  
At his remark, I noticed a flash of light on one man’s person as he moved his weight to a different foot. I realized that they were wearing the traditional golden helmet of the soldiers that patrolled the city of Asgard. My frown deepened as I became even more confused. I laid out the pieces of the puzzle in my mind.  
First, there were the two hooded travelers, who were clearly trying to keep their presence unnoticed. That in of and itself was suspicious. Why were they hiding? Who were they? Then, these two. Their conversation only had me asking more questions. They were talking about the king as if he could hear them. It was true that Loki was supposedly a powerful sorcerer, but even he would not be able to overhear this conversation, miles away in his castle.  
Unless…  
The gears within my mind began to spin, the guards’ conversation providing them with oil instead of resistance now. One of the men had mentioned something about Thor, who had told them to stay ahead. So, that would suggest that Thor was one of the hooded travelers that I had first seen, but who was the second?  
I considered the men’s profession, origin, and finally their concern that their king would be able to hear them, and could only come to one conclusion:  
The other hooded traveler was Loki. The king of Asgard was here.


	7. Chapter Seven

LOKI  
“I shouldn’t have brought any guards,” I groused as we continued down the road, the worryingly observant girl now safely out of sight.   
“You’re the king of Asgard,” Thor replied. “You can’t have enough guards. Besides, I told them to stay ahead of us. Even if someone sees them, which I doubt will happen, no one will know they’re with us. You have nothing to worry about.”  
“Well, it doesn’t feel that way,” I muttered, urging my horse forward.  
Thor shrugged. He was infuriatingly calm about this whole affair. Clearly, he didn’t understand how important it was that information regarding our arrival did not reach Obsidia. Even if she failed to guess we were after her, she would have the common sense to go into hiding, making our task that much more difficult.  
I do not know how long it took us to reach Dagson Castle-it could’ve taken minutes or hours. It was all the same to me, as I spent the entire time glancing over my shoulder. I could’ve sworn I heard the flap of a cape behind me, but when I turned there were only shadows. Thor had replied my mind was just playing tricks on me when I’d pointed it out to him.  
“Finally,” he grunted as the clipping of our horses’ hooves over the road stopped. I stared at the large stone arch marking the entrance to the castle, currently closed off by heavy metal grillwork and two armed guards. Thor dismounted to explain to them our purpose, but the soldiers we had sent ahead of us must have already done so, for we were let through without resistance.  
As we headed into a spacious courtyard, I observed the layout of the castle. Two staircases on either side of the space led up to a second story, and a set of wooden doors were inlaid into the stone at the far end of the square. To the left was a large, rectangular building, presumably the stables. A stablehand rushed out to take our horses. He had clearly just woken, as he stifled a yawn in the middle of addressing us.  
In front of the doors stood our two guards, a young woman, and a figure who could only be Kispin Dagson. I leapt down from my horse, glad to be on flat ground again. I’d surely be sore tomorrow from the long day of riding. Judging by the position of the moon, it was around midnight, and we had started our journey early in the morning.   
Although I was beginning to grow exhausted, I forced myself to stay alert. I studied the lord who had summoned me here. He was tall, with pale skin. Dagson was reasonably handsome, his blonde hair yet to turn gray. I assumed the woman standing to his left was his daughter, as they both shared the same piercing blue eyes.  
The girl’s eyes stood out against her dark hair and skin. They were both dressed in finery, in stark contrast to our dusty riding clothes. Kispin was wearing long, white robes embellished in gold. They covered his feet, which were surely clad in equally fine shoes, and the wide sleeves hung loosely from his arms, which he now clasped behind his back. His daughter was dressed in red velvet, her gown accented with a design of silver leaves. I took note of her excessively low neckline and the demure smile she gave me.  
“My lord,” Kispin greeted, bowing his head. The girl followed his example, lifting up her thick skirts to curtsy. “What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea that you would be so gracious as to personally reply to our plea for help.”  
“Yes,” the girl agreed. “How kind of you to come.” She had a soft, pleasant voice.  
Kispin shot her a frown, and I got the sense that this entire conversation had been scripted beforehand. “This is my daughter, Una. I can see that you have traveled far to help us, so she can show you to your rooms now. While we have much to discuss about the….problem, I am sure you will want to rest first.”  
“We thank you for your hospitality,” I replied smoothly. Thor beamed amiably at the pair.  
Una hesitated, looking to her father. When he gave her a nod, she turned back to us with a smile. “Right this way, my lords,” she said, gesturing to the staircase on the left.   
Thor immediately struck up a conversation with her as we moved towards the stairs. “I am surprised you and your father were up at such a late hour. I hope our arrival did not wake you.”  
“Nonsense!” Una laughed, although I could tell her good-naturedness was faked. “It was the least we could do after the mightiest warrior in all the nine realms and the king of Asgard deigned to visit our humble town.”  
I held back a rather un-kingly snort. Una’s words were so obviously forced that I abstained from even speaking to her. I would surely get another previously rehearsed reply if I tried. Instead, my attention was drawn to the lavish interior of the castle. Torches hung on the walls, casting light on the golden wallpaper and soft, thick carpet we walked on. Paintings and decorations were hanging everywhere I looked, and any free space, which was scarce, was taken up by lifelike marble statues of previous Dagsons.  
“And this is my great grandfather,” Una continued, pointing out a stern-looking bust to Thor. I realized she was giving him a history lesson and tuned back in in case any useful information was given. “He was a general-one of Odin’s favorites.”  
“Ah yes, I had heard my father speak of him,” Thor agreed. “General Alfarin. He fought against the Frost Giants side by side with Odin.”  
“Oh!” Una laughed nervously. “Yes, yes-the Frost Giants. Yes. Our family has, uh, always strived to protect Asgard from those...monsters.”  
Thor glanced back at me, apparently worried that this slight against my heritage would anger me. However, I was much more interested in our guide’s reaction to the mention of Frost Giants. I knew how to pick out a liar, and she certainly was one. I did not know what to make of it currently, but I silently vowed to find an answer during our stay.  
“Well, my Lords, here are your rooms,” Una informed us, her skirts swishing as she came to a halt. She gestured towards two adjacent doors before bidding us a good night. Thor smiled at her as she left.   
As soon as she was safely out of earshot, I turned to him. “You know she was-”  
“Lying?” he finished, raising an eyebrow. “I am not nearly as dense as you would believe, Brother. It is clear she has something to hide about her relationship with the Frost Giants.”  
I could not keep the surprise from my face. “You didn’t seem to be showing any of this suspicion when you were so eager to speak to her.”  
“And if I had not made up for your silence, we never would have discovered her secret,” Thor pointed out. “Although you must find it quite hard to believe, being polite can, in fact, be helpful.” With this veiled insult at my impropriety, he disappeared into his room. Scowling, I did the same.


	8. Chapter Eight

THOR  
Having bested my brother, the god of deceit, at unearthing lies, I was quite pleased with myself as I surveyed the suite that had been allotted to me. I had a feeling my royal status had something to do with the luxurious state of the rooms and that our guards would be staying in much more humble quarters.   
It seemed that Kispin’s favorite color was gold, considering how much of it I had seen in just a few minutes within his castle. The walls, floor, and even the furniture were gilded. I was honestly surprised the glass in the windows wasn’t pure gold. I currently stood in a sitting room. Several couches, complete with velvet pillows, surrounded a table on which sat a vase filled with flowers. It was a mystery to me what type they were, as they too were gilded.   
The next room was clearly a dining area. Wooden chairs were placed around a table long enough to seat at least seven men, and a bouquet of the unnatural flowers had been added as well. The only room I cared about was the next, which was probably tastefully decorated as well. I barely spared a quick glance around, as upon spotting the huge bed pushed against the left wall, I fell fast asleep on it.

I awoke to a sound that could rival the boom of the thunder I summoned during battle. Upon rising and checking the door, I discovered it had been generated by the petite figure of Una.   
“Yes?” I said groggily, rubbing the tiredness from my eyes.  
“Oh, did I wake you? My apologies.”   
I held back a laugh. She had probably woken the whole castle. “Ah-no, not at all. I’ve been up for ages.”  
She raised a speculative eyebrow, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smirk. “Is that so?” Una blinked, apparently realizing she was showing a form of emotion. “I mean-of course, of course. Will you be down for breakfast then?”  
“Certainly,” I replied. Now that I had rested, food was the foremost thought in my mind. “Although I suppose I should...freshen up,” I said, looking down at the traveling clothes I still wore.  
“I had a maid bring you new clothes-you must’ve seen her, as you’ve been up for ages,” Una added, stepping away from the door with a smile. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”  
I chuckled before shutting the door. Kispin’s daughter was already proving to be a complicated character. Last night her conversation had been stiff and fake, yet this morning she seemed to be hovering between lively wit and rigid formalness. I sighed. In my experience, all the women I’d met had shared the ability to utterly bewilder me.  
As I slipped on the new robes the maid had provided, similar in fashion to the ones Kispin wore besides their dark brown color, my thoughts wandered back to a frequent topic of late: Jane.   
It had been several months since I had made a trip to Midgard. Besides the fact that I missed her dearly, the reaction she’d had the last time I had gone without visiting was a very strong motivation to find some extra time to see her. I brushed my fingers across my cheek, remembering where she had slapped me.   
Yes, I thought. As soon as this matter is taken care of, I will go to see her.


	9. Chapter 9

ARIS  
What a haul of secrets I had stolen!  
I could not keep the smirk from my face as I lifted the pane of the window I had used to steal into the castle, swinging one leg over the sill. Unfortunately, I had been unable to find a window close to the ground, requiring the scaling of a conveniently placed hedge to reach an entrance. I had fallen more than once as I had climbed up, my hands fumbling in the darkness. Once I’d breached the castle walls, however, all I’d had to do was stuff my cloak and satchel into the nearest plant pot and steal a maid’s uniform from a storage closet. After that, it seemed the treasures I sought had been laid out at my feet.  
Now, the task of descending down the wall was made easier for me in the light. The task of remaining unseen was another matter.  
I sighed, shoving the black cape into my bag. In the night, it had provided excellent cover. In the bright daylight, it would only make me more conspicuous. I slung the satchel over my shoulder, regretting the decision to bring it with me. Usually, it was helpful, but today only cumbersome. I was glad I had changed back out of the maid’s dress; skirts would’ve made this climb even more difficult.  
I placed the tip of my boots on the ledge jutting out from the window. It couldn’t have been wider than a few inches, and yet I edged across it with ease. I had made more dangerous climbs before. Both feet firmly planted on the ledge, I leaned my upper body out of the room, clutching the window frame as I turned around so my back was facing the wall.  
Now came the difficult part.  
Although Dagson had grown lazy and confident over the years, he still had the common sense to station guards at intervals on his castle’s walls. One such guard was standing only a few feet above me, gazing out vigilantly over the landscape.  
Well, that was what he was supposed to be doing. In reality, the soldier was probably propped up against the wall, fast asleep. The same cockiness that Dagson had developed had also spread to his staff. All his men assumed no one would dare attack his castle, which was not an unreasonable assumption. Kispin’s home was heavily fortified and housed a formidable military force. However, they had made one vital mistake in the construction and defense of the building.  
It was impregnable to an army, yet completely accessible to a single enemy.  
I stood, balanced precariously on the edge of the window. The ground was at least twenty feet below me, and I began to grow worried when I heard no sound of movement above me. Had I miscalculated? Judged the time wrong? Simply thought of the wrong time? Or perhaps they changed the time-  
“Alright Stein, your turn.” The wind carried the guard’s words down to me and I breathed a sigh of relief. The guards were changing.  
“Yeah, yeah,” Stein grumbled. “See any trouble?”  
I assumed the guard’s answer was negative but didn’t wait around to hear. I leaned forward, taking advantage of the soldiers’ distraction to scout out my target. The window to my left was only ten feet away, which would’ve been an easy jump if I was not double that amount above the ground, aiming for an extremely narrow ledge, and trying not to catch the attention two people standing alarmingly close, whose job was explicitly to watch for troublemakers.  
I stepped back, bent my legs, and jumped.  
“What was that?”  
“What?”  
“I heard something. Like, a thud.”  
I pressed my back against the stone, trying to quiet the heavy sound of my breathing. I was clutching the wall for support, my feet scrambling for a hold on the new platform. I had nearly missed the ledge, but by some miracle, I had succeeded in landing and, apparently, only managed to produce-  
“A thud?” Stein repeated. I could hear the clink of their armor as both the guards leaned over the battlements. I sucked my chest in, completely flattening my body against the stone. I usually despised my small build and inadequate height of only five feet and two inches. Today, I thanked whatever higher power was out there for it.  
There was an unsettlingly long pause.  
“I don’t see anything,” Stein finally stated. They stood upright again and I let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding.  
“Must’ve been-” the other guard started to say, but, once again, I didn’t wait to hear him finish. The tall, square hedge situated next to the window I was currently standing on was the perfect means for my descent, and I leapt down from my perch, becoming lost to any prying eyes as I darted into the leaves.


	10. Chapter 10

LOKI  
I tapped a single fingernail on the golden surface of the breakfast table, waiting for the arrival of our hosts as well as Thor. Unlike him, I had required no wake-up call, coming downstairs myself to inspect the small dining area.  
Well, small was the word Una had used to portray it. I thought a more appropriate adjective might have been enormous.  
The space, easily as big as the dining room used to feed dozens of soldiers back in the palace at Asgard, currently held only a single person. It followed the similar style of every other room in the castle in that it was ostentatiously decorated and completely gilded. I resisted the urge to shield my eyes from the disgustingly overused color as Lord Dagson strode into the room.  
“Ah, excellent!” he exclaimed upon noticing my presence. “My king, thank you for waking so early. We have much to discuss.”  
Dagson was dressed in clothes similar to those of yesterday, but I did not miss the change in color-dark green, my preferred shade. His white-blonde hair had been cut recently, cropped close to his neck. It seemed he had spent an inordinate amount of time on it, each strand perfectly straight and slicked.  
“I suppose we should wait for your brother before beginning,” Dagson mused, sitting down at the head of the table. I noticed that the back of his chair was decorated with sparkling embellishments, while the rest of the seats remained undecorated.  
“He’s not my-I mean...yes. We should wait for Thor. And your daughter,” I added, trying to direct attention away from my near mistake. I had realized I should refrain from correcting people’s assumption that I was related to Thor. I didn’t need “illegitimate claim to the throne” to be more fodder for the public’s belief that I shouldn’t be king. I was well aware of their dislike of my newly acquired position, and that was even with their ignorance of my actions back on Midgard. If the people learned of the havoc I had wreaked there-well, it sufficed to say I could not let that happen.  
A maid, her head wrapped in yellow cloth, hurried into the room bearing a silver platter. Behind her, a small army of servers dressed exactly alike swarmed in to set out our breakfast. Dagson was clearly trying to impress me with his wealth and numerous staff. Although it was, actually, impressive, I schooled my features into impassiveness. If the lord of Skali expected a gasp of surprise from his king, he would be sorely disappointed.  
“Your hospitality is truly admirable!” Thor boomed as he stomped into the room. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My companion had no sense of pride. “I’d guess you have more servers here than we do back in Asgard.”  
Una laughed lightly. I noticed her facade had not changed. Her clothes, however, had. Her hair was styled in an elaborate updo and wrapped in a chain of pearls. Her neck and ears were adorned with emeralds, and her dress, scandalously short, was decorated with an excess of ruffles, lace, and gems. The entire outfit was green as well, perfectly complimenting myself, although my outfit was considerably less extravagant. I had not looked up from the book I was reading to acknowledge the maid that had scurried in, but as soon as she had departed I’d inspected the clothes she’d laid out.  
I noticed now that they were of finer fabric than Thor’s. Dagson were clearly catering to me because of my status, now higher than my companion’s. If Thor had not turned the throne over to me, I was sure he’d be the one wearing thick, flowing robes, although they would have been in his colors rather than black and green.  
Before he was even fully seated, Thor was reaching for a plate of sizzling hot meat-Strotmite, by the looks of it-that had been laid out in front of him. I pretended to take great interest in the piece of bread I was holding while actually observing Una out of the corner of my eye. She looked hesitant, as if unsure where to sit. I nearly missed the slight tilt of Kispin’s head as he gestured towards the chair next to mine. Her moment of uncertainty gone, Una glided over to me, pulling out her chair and seating herself with a single, graceful motion.  
“And will Lady Dagson be joining us this fine morning?” Thor asked, his mouth still full of food. At this point, it was very difficult for me to keep a neutral expression, as I had not been aware than a Lady Dagson had existed. Most likely another tidbit Thor had received in his conversation with Una. Perhaps being polite actually could be helpful.  
Una looked up hopefully from the tablecloth she was staring at. “Unfortunately not,” Kispin replied. “She is not feeling well at the moment.” Una tried to hide her disappointment, but I did not fail to notice the light extinguished from her eyes.  
“That is indeed unfortunate news,” I agreed, deciding to finally grace my company with speech. “Hopefully it is nothing serious.”  
Kispin opened his mouth to speak, but Una beat him to it. “It is not,” she assured me. “Mother shall surely join us by noon.”  
“Noon might be a little early-” Kispin started.  
“Oh, but didn’t you hear? Mother said so herself. She was just a little worn out.” The girl finished the statement by directing a dazzling smile at her father, but I sensed an underlying emotion in her strained features. A silence settled over the table as father and daughter seemed to have a telepathic battle, their attempt at keeping a pleasant expression poorly hiding the animosity that was clearly brewing.  
“Well,” Thor exclaimed, breaking the silence. Una seemed to lose whatever spirit had previously possessed her, sinking back down into a submissive position in her chair. Kispin broke away from the staring contest, anger evident in each hard line of his face. “Now that we’re all here, I suppose you should better educate us about this problem Skali is facing. A vigilante, I believe?”  
The mere mention of the vigilante seemed to turn Kispin into a different man. The glower that had settled across his face lifted, giving way to a feverish glow. The crazed light of an obsessed man entered his eyes and he leaned forward intently. “Yes,” he agreed vehemently. “A vigilante. A plague.”


	11. Chapter 11

THOR (11)  
I quickly regretted bringing up the subject of our visit as soon as the words left my lips. I did not know which was worse: the awkward silence as our host and his daughter glared daggers at each other or the inflamed rant that tumbled out of Dagson’s mouth.  
“A plague,” he continued. “A plague on the citizens of Skali. A plague on our peace. A plague on our lives!”  
Loki raised an eyebrow. “It sounds as if you deem this to be quite a serious problem. I wonder why I’d only heard of it yesterday.”  
“Well, my lord,” Dagson explained, turning his intense gaze on my brother, “I assumed my guards would be able to eradicate the problem. They have been pursuing Obsidia for months.”  
“Then perhaps you are in need of some better guards,” I pointed out. Dagson chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound.  
“Perhaps. But I doubt an army could capture her. That is why I am so grateful for you and your brother’s presence. With both of your skills combined, even Obsidia will not be able to escape.”  
“And why, exactly, can’t you just storm her house and arrest her?” Loki asked. “You must at least have enough guards to do that.”  
“Yes, well-that’s where we’ve run into a problem…” Dagson trailed off, seemingly unwilling to offer more information. Una was not.  
“We don’t know who she is.”  
“What?” Loki snorted. “What do you mean you don’t know who she is?’ You’ve been trailing her for months and you don’t even know her identity?”  
“Well-she wears a hood!” Dagson protested.   
There were not enough words in existence to describe the level of disbelief and unimpressed disgust that could currently be found on my brother’s face. Loki was apparently so astounded at Dagson’s incompetence that he hesitated a few seconds before opening his mouth, giving me enough time to intervene and stop the extremely insulting remark I was completely certain he was about to make.  
“Uh, perhaps Una could...shed some light on this?”  
“Gladly,” she said, cutting in smoothly. Judging by the passionate emotions Dagson clearly had about this topic, any information he provided would be biased. And if we wished to remain in our host’s good favor, Loki mustn’t be allowed to speak at all. Currently, Una seemed to be the most collected out of all of those seated at the table, her composed demeanor matched only by the duplicate expressions on the faces of our servers, who hovered near the walls waiting to be of further use. Now that I had experienced Dagson’s volatile nature for myself, I assumed any member of his staff would be expected to keep calm in a situation such as this.  
“Obsidia began as nothing more than a common thief. She received the name through the black market, where she sold her stolen goods. Apparently, whenever she made transactions, it was in disguise, using a black cloak that masked her features. The only other point of interest about her was that she stole solely from wealthy upperclassmen, and even that was not unusual. Many thieves preferred their marks to be of a higher class, most likely because more valuable items could be stolen from them.”  
“So she’s a thief?” Loki summarized. “I don’t understand why you consider this such an issue.”  
“She was a thief,” I corrected. “There’s more to the story, is there not?” I had heard it before, but Una’s account was much more detailed and factually accurate than the stories I’d been told.  
Una nodded. “Yes. Something must have happened to change her mind because a few years ago Obsidia stopped going after jewels and set her eyes on a much more dangerous prize.”  
“And what was that?” Loki prompted.  
“The commoners say it is secrets,” she answered, “but I have a different theory. Obsidia steals power.”


	12. Chapter 12

ARIS  
“You’re late,” Eid grunted as soon as I stepped into the shop.  
“I had a late night,” I replied.   
“Is that Aris-speak for ‘I snuck out’?”  
“Yeah.”  
Eid sighed, his thick mane of golden-red hair tumbling over his shoulders as he shook his head. Contrary to the preference of most Asgardian men, my mentor made a habit out of shaving his beard every morning, although judging by the stubble that was scattered across his chin, he had neglected to do so today.  
“Well, what have you been up to while I was away?” I asked, throwing my satchel on to the coat stand that was placed next to the door. The stand rattled, nearly tipping over before I reached back to stop it.  
“Oh, nothing much,” Eid grumbled. “Just finishing the sword for Starolf that you said you’d make.”  
“Ah!” I exclaimed, putting one hand to my forehead as I righted the coat stand. “I-I’m sorry Eid, I completely forgot-”  
“It’s fine,” he cut me off, the dramatic sigh added at the end of the statement suggesting that it was not, in fact, fine. “I was only up until midnight.”  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I, uh...look, I’ll make it up to you! Uh, who was that fellow that wanted a shield? Ulfrid? Ulfris?”  
“I already made Ulfrik’s buckler,” Eid replied, striding out from behind the counter. I groaned when I saw what he held in his hand. “You can sweep the floors.”  
“But I swept the floors yesterday!”  
“You started yesterday, before you ran off to who knows where and then stopped by your house to tell your mother you were going to bed but that she shouldn’t expect to see you in the morning because you were going to work early, and then you snuck off to who knows where again all night before coming in-late.”  
The only reaction I could muster was a blink to break the mask of surprise on my face.  
“I know you, Aris,” Eid said. “I know you’re routine. You’ve been my apprentice for 646 years and I know everything about you-everything except where you go every day when you say you need to leave. And don’t say-”  
“I don’t go anywhere!”   
Eid looked down at me, displeasure evident in his narrowed eyes, set like chips of flint in his stern face. “Fine. You can sweep the floors for coming in late, and then you can organize the display in the front window.”  
“And what crime did I commit to deserve that?” I called out as his back as he thrust the broom into my hand and turned away.  
“Lying!” he shouted back, slamming the door to the forge behind him. I sighed as he left, running a hand through my hair. My fingers got caught in the tangled knots, and some loose pebbles tumbled out of my black locks as I yanked my gloved hand out. I need a bath, I thought. I yawned, leaning on the broomstick. And some sleep.  
What I really needed was a day off, but that wasn’t an option when you worked two full-time jobs. At least I would be able to get some sleep tonight, but I was going to have to work all day in the shop. I looked around at my workplace of many years and sighed again. Eid’s Forge had been the most prominent smithy in Skali for as long as I could remember, which was a true miracle considering the state it was in now.  
The floors were admittedly in need of a good sweeping, and the display of the various shields, weapons, and armor we created in the front window was in a state of disarray. In fact, the entire front of the building where we received to customers was a mess, with a plethora of metalwork, in varying stages of completion, strewn across the floor and thrown on any available surface. We really shouldn’t have had the weapons we’d made mistakes on-or rather, weapons I’d made mistakes on-out where potential customers could see them. With just one glance around the room, I noticed a longsword with a crooked blade, a dented helmet, and a misshapen ax lying about.  
I groaned as I began the tedious chore of sweeping all the dirt and dust that had accumulated on the wooden floorboards into a single pile. There were times when I regretted my decision to take up the burly blacksmith on his job offer 646 years ago, and now was one of them. Unfortunately, it had been a necessary choice, as I had needed an excuse for where my money was coming from when I had begun my thefts. Now that I sought out more valuable items with less monetary worth, I could have quit. However, I had discovered over the years that I actually enjoyed the process of forging, and so I remained.  
Today, I knew I would have to toil away for hours to keep my job. It would have been more bearable had the work been the actual forging that I thought would occupy all my time when I became Eid’s apprentice. It turned out that the blacksmith did most of the forging and the apprentice did most of the cleaning, organizing, and other monotonous tasks involved with actually keeping the store running. My only motivation was that I’d never get the chance to work in the forge if I got fired.   
Considering that I planned to “step out” for “various reasons” tomorrow, I resigned myself to cleaning today. I couldn’t stay late either. I needed some sleep for what I had planned the next day.  
And oh, did I have plans.


	13. Chapter 13

LOKI  
“But if her entire spiel is that she represents a new era of light, why does she wear a black cloak?” I demanded.  
“I don’t know!” Una groaned, putting her head in her hands. Dagson gave her a meaningful look, obviously disapproving of her irate behavior, although I couldn’t blame her. Our discussion about Obsidia had gone on so long, Thor had stopped shoveling slabs of meat into his face. I wasn’t sure if it was even possible, but I thought he might actually have found the full capacity of his stomach.  
“So what I understand is, Obsidia started as a thief, targeting wealthy upperclassmen until she switched from possessions to...secrets?” Thor asked.  
Kispin nodded. “Only last month, she discovered the Stursons were involved in an illegal slave market. We had to arrest them, of course.”  
“You arrested them just because Obsidia, a vigilante that you hate, said to?” I replied, my brow furrowing.  
“And that’s the other problem,” Una explained. “She doesn’t just find your secrets. She collects evidence. All of the members of the upper class know what to look for now: opened envelopes, drawers that have clearly been searched, missing documents-it means Obsidia has been there, and she’s gathering concrete proof of whatever crime you’ve committed. It’s every lord or lady’s worst nightmare because she presents everything to the public, where no one can be bribed and nothing can be denied. Once Obsidia’s on to you, you’re ruined.”  
“So that’s why the upper class hates her,” I concluded.  
“And why the lower class love her,” Thor added. “They feel she is spreading transparency. A common point of unrest throughout the public has always been that the wealthy aren’t held accountable to the law because they can buy their way out of whatever trouble they may find themselves in. I suppose Obsidia is their way of...evening the odds. But I don’t understand what you mean by her stealing power.”  
Una nodded grimly. “Not directly, of course. I don’t even think she realizes what she’s doing. But when she exposes the lords and ladies, the ones that have enough wealth and political sway to affect laws and practices, that’s what she’s doing. She’s taking the power away from the upper class and essentially handing it to the common people when she makes them judge, jury, and executioner.”  
I paused, turning over all the information in my head. To me, the most important detail was Dagson’s obvious obsession with catching this vigilante. I could already guess his motive and how he would react when I uttered my verdict.  
“Well, this doesn’t sound like a problem to me. Seems more like a blessing, actually.”  
Dagson’s eyes widened in surprise. He reared back in his chair, unsure of how to respond. I could see in his face he was struggling not to explode in an accusative outburst. I almost wished he would try to verbally assault me. Unstable victims were the easiest to manipulate.  
“Sire,” Dagson finally ground out, “I have not the faintest idea how you could come to this conclusion. Obsidia has been breaking into our homes, rifling through our possessions, invading our privacy-her targets men like you and me-all with the goal of sending us to prison!”  
“Exactly,” I replied. “She is rooting out the criminals for you, is she not?”  
“Well…” Dagson hesitated, scrambling for a counter argument. “No one should be held above the law, my lord.”  
“Not even you nor I?” I raised an eyebrow in challenge.  
“Er-no, no I suppose not. No one,” he stammered. I decided I had put a sufficient amount of pressure on him and leaned back in my chair, adopting a more relaxed position.  
“I suppose you have a point. Although she is attempting to do good, Obsidia is a criminal, and she should be captured,” I decided.  
“She’s also quite dangerous,” Dagson added, eagerly pushing the conversation back to his side. “More than a couple guards have come back with injuries because of her. Although we did not get the pleasure of meeting, I’d heard...tales that your brother had visited previously to witness her violence himself.”  
“Ah, yes,” Thor chuckled. “I have witnessed her violence.” Dagson seemed pleased with this support, but I sensed a certain amount of sarcasm laced throughout his words. I thought back to when we had been discussing Obsidia’s talents at the palace. Thor’s tone could almost have been described as admiring then, and my brother was not easily impressed. I, of all people, knew the dangers of underestimating an opponent and decided to look further into her abilities.  
“Perhaps we could talk to one of these guards, Kispin?” I asked, turning back to our host. “I’d like to get an idea of how she fights.”  
Dagson nodded. “I know exactly who to point you to. Gaerhialm Hamingsson is captain of the guard and has spearheaded the endless search for Obsidia. I’m sure he’ll be willing to give you an account of his interactions with her, although I would wait until tomorrow. She slipped away from him yet again, and he’s in a foul mood.”  
“I’ll be sure to ask for him next morning then,” I announced, rising from my chair. The rest of the table did the same.  
Dagson cleared his throat and glared at Una. I saw her mouth form the word what at her father before realization showed on her face. “Oh! My lord, if you wish, I could show you around the castle,” she said, addressing me.  
“Yes,” I agreed, “Thor and I would very much enjoy that.” I glanced at Thor, who didn’t appear to disagree, although the invitation had been extended only to myself. I wanted to observe the layout and possible entrances and exits of the castle, but I was certainly not planning to do so with the insufferable company of Una. Hopefully, Thor would engage her in conversation, leaving me to silently eavesdrop whilst studying the castle.  
“Wonderful!” she exclaimed, her unbearably positive demeanor returning. “We can begin in the gardens. They’re just outside.”  
She pushed in her chair and started towards the doors leading out of the breakfast room, the tail of her dress trailing behind her. Its hem swooped upwards in the front, revealing most of Una’s legs. I noticed that she kept tugging at it as if she were uncomfortable with showing off any skin at all. Una didn’t strike me as one that would be particularly worried about her appearance, and yet hours of effort had clearly been put into it. Her lips and cheeks had been colored with rouge, and her jewelry had been expertly paired with the gems decorating her skirts.  
We left Dagson and the maids behind, entering a carpeted hallway outside of the room. I noticed that Una visibly relaxed as soon as we were out of her father’s presence. “This way,” she directed, gesturing to the right as she started down the hall. I followed after her, my boots sinking into the golden carpet. Our guide took a turn through one of the doorways on the left, bringing us to the top of a set of gleaming stairs leading down to a sitting area. The walls of the room below us were mostly windows, revealing an excellent view of the gardens.  
Una hurried down the steps and past the chairs, holding the glass doors open for us. As we stepped out into the humid summer air, my eyes narrowed against the bright rays of the sun. Despite its sudden intensity, the natural light was a welcome change from the artificial glow pouring out of the golden interior of the castle. Una seemed much happier outside as well, the corners of her mouth tilting upwards into a nearly imperceptible smile.   
The beginning of the stone path that wound through the extensive foliage was marked with another marble bust and a plaque, presumably giving information pertaining to the statue. I did not bother to read it, instead much more interested in the tall hedges that lined the path. They effectively blocked my view of the rest of the trail, which only stayed straight for a few feet before turning sharply. The verdure had truly been allowed to grow free, one hedge even reaching as high as a second story window. I noticed something glinting in the leaves. I reached up, squinting in the blinding sunlight. Whatever it was, it was too high for me to reach myself. I stepped back and focused my mind on the shimmering object.  
Pale green light began to glimmer in my palms, overflowing and pouring out of my hands. The light twisted and grew, climbing the hedge like a vine as it grasped for the object of my desire. Finally, the vine reached the source of the glinting light and latched on, forcefully yanking it out of the hedge and into my waiting palms. My fingers curled around it before it could fall to the ground.  
It was at this point that I noticed the wide-eyed gazes of Una and Thor trained on me. Thor had seen my magic before, but perhaps he was displeased with me for using it in front of an outsider. Well, if the Dagsons wished to work with us, they should know the full extent of our abilities.  
And I was never one to pass up a chance to overshadow Thor.  
“Fascinating,” Una murmured, her head tilted at an angle. Most courtiers lacking in the gift of sorcery disliked seeing it performed; Asgardians put too much value on brute strength and had few defenses against the more subtle art of magic. Apparently, Una did not share this mindset.  
“And useful,” I remarked, uncurling my fingers to hold the object up to the light. It was a necklace, made of tarnished metal and hanging on a thin chain. The pendant was molded into an odd, misshapen triangular shape.  
“What is that?” Thor asked, stepping closer to reach for it.  
“No idea,” I replied, pocketing it before he could snatch it away. Although it seemed to be an innocent enough necklace, I was still struck with the urge to keep it. It seemed important, somehow. Thor frowned, clearly finding the answer unsatisfactory but unwilling to pursue it currently.  
“Alright then,” he grumbled. “Una, if you would please continue your story?”  
Una nodded, easily falling back into the mindless banter. “Well, my great great grandfather was the one who really began the maintenance of the gardens, although the land around our castle has always been quite lush. My mother loves to garden, you know…”  
Una’s voice trailed off as I started down the path without them, perfectly content with her decision to bore only Thor with her incessant chatter. I was hoping to be able to observe the castle by myself, although I was beginning to recognize that the gardens would not be the best place to start. The hedges were twice as tall as me and were impossible to see over, preventing any traveler from exploring or even seeing anything other than the bushes of flowers surrounding the narrow path.   
I set a fast pace for myself as I strode through the gardens, just under a run. I quickly left Una and Thor behind, who were probably stopping to observe every plant they came across. It genuinely surprised me that the flowers had not been made gold as well. I supposed Dagson had yet to discover the garden, or else I was sure the blue and white flowers blooming out of the ground around me would be dripping golden paint.  
As I navigated the gardens, I found my pace quickening. My feet pounded the ground harder, faster, the path flying by as I raced at breakneck speed around the corner of a hedge. Between my actual imprisonment, only recently ended, and the new form of confinement that came with being king, I realized that I’d had scarce time to myself, to simply enjoy my newfound liberation. I tore through the gardens, barely able to muster enough self-control not to release the laughter bubbling in my throat. I had forgotten what it felt like to run.  
I had forgotten what it felt like to be free.  
Although I found his castle to be completely lacking in taste and elegance, even I could not deny that Lord Dagson had magnificent gardens. The hedges had been perfectly trimmed, but ropes of ivy and purple flowers had been allowed to climb up the gleaming walls, adding a splash of color to the otherwise boring monotony of gold. Sparkling slabs of colored glass had been inlaid in the cobblestone path, and flowers in a myriad of colors were planted along its edges. Flashes of pink, white, and yellow blurred together in my peripheral vision as I careened around another bend, letting the fresh summer breeze fill up my lungs. Even in my thick robes, I wasn’t hot at all, which was-  
I stopped and looked down at my hands, feet skidding to a halt.  
Blue.   
Icy blue.  
I closed my eyes, breath coming to a stop for a single second. When I dared to peel open my eyelids again, the frost had been replaced with my normal skin tone. Just like that, I told myself. Simple. Easy. Quickly.  
But my transformation into a frost giant had happened just as smoothly as the change back, and I had been frighteningly unaware of it. How long had I been tearing through the castle grounds in my Jotun form?   
I turned back to see footprints, rimmed with ice, engraved in the warm ground. The sun’s rays were already starting to melt them, and yet their image was still branded in my mind. I turned away, shivering despite the summer heat. I did not know how long I stood, stopped in the middle of the trail, alone with my thoughts. The only motivation I had to move was the sound of heavy boots stomping around the corner, the swish of silk around someone’s legs, and two very familiar voices.  
When I ran again, it was not because I was free.


	14. Chapter 14

THOR  
I could have sworn I’d heard footsteps ahead of us, but when we turned the corner, there was no one. A part of me had hoped Loki had come back for us, although now I realized it was a foolish notion. I knew well of his contempt for small talk and niceties, both of which Una was quite accomplished at.  
“And then, after her daughter got married-to Gunni, not to Hrok-Auntie Bjartney opened up an antique store! The rest of the family thought she was crazy. And now it’s one of the most profitable shops in the city.”  
“Ah, yes,” I mumbled, tugging at the rough collar of my robes. “Fascinating.”  
There was an awkward pause, which was only broken by the rustling of fabric. I looked down to see Una squinting at her arm. I leaned over-discreetly-to see what had captured her attention.  
It appeared to me that something had been written in ink on her skin. Upon closer inspection, I realized that the words marked on her arm were topics we had recently discussed. I saw Uncle Vebrand’s Horses, Cousin Ljufu’s Marriage, and finally, Auntie Bjartney’s store, all scrawled out on her arm.  
“Oh! This is nothing. I just...spilled some ink on myself earlier,” Una said quickly upon noticing my observation. Apparently, I had not been as discreet as I had thought. I usually had Loki to help with this kind of investigation, but as he had deemed Kispin’s daughter to be an unworthy subject of consideration, I was determined to discover something of importance from Una on my own.  
And if-no, when-I did, I would be sure to gloat about it.  
Profusely.  
But I actually had to find a clue pertaining to the mystery of the Dagsons before I could brag, and so I tore my thoughts away from the tantalizing prospect of dangling my superiority over my brother’s head and focused back in on my considerably less captivating companion.  
“Those look very much like words and not at all like accidental splotches of ink,” I pointed out.  
Una sighed, running a hand through her hair and, in the process, dislodging the strands of pearls that had been delicately wound throughout her curls. As she tried to release her hand from the coils of black hair, her fingers caught in the net of gems, and she angrily yanked the entire hairdo apart, carelessly tossing the pearls away. An ocean of coal came tumbling down her shoulders and around her face, casting her bronze skin into shadow. I raised an eyebrow but, upon noticing the sudden fury that was beginning to simmer in her eyes, decided not to comment.  
“Father,” she began, spitting out the title with contempt, “prepared a list of ‘acceptable subjects for me to discuss with the king.’”  
“But I am not-”  
“The king?” Una snorted. “I’m aware. It’s not as if the actual one could bother to breathe in my direction.” I was unable to make out the final word she muttered underneath her breath, but I had the sense that it was derogatory.   
“Are you smiling?” she demanded, her eyebrows lowering into a scowl.  
“Forgive me,” I replied. “I am just...surprised by this new side to your personality.”  
“This is my personality,” Una told me, a note of sadness ringing in her rough voice. “It certainly is not ladylike enough for Father.”  
“Well, I can tell you that I much prefer it to discussing antique shops.”  
She smiled-a real, true smile, not another tight-lipped one more reminiscent of a cringe that I had seen her flash in the presence of Kispin. “You’d be a first. Being a lady is so...demanding.”  
At this particular remark, I could not resist a riposte. “Oh yes, trying on dresses, eating pastries, weaving wool caps. Such a difficult and hazardous lifestyle.”  
“At least you don’t have to wear corsets,” she grumbled, tugging at the fabric around her waist.  
“You’re surprisingly obedient for someone who seems so discontent.”  
“I wasn’t always,” she mumbled, pulling on one of the released locks of hair, still crinkled from the tight bun it had been wrapped in. “Father doesn’t…” She sighed, letting the end of her sentence trail off. “Where is that blasted brother of yours anyway? You know that Kispin expects me to court him, don’t you?”  
A bird that had been settled in a nearby tree fled in alarm at the booming laughter that erupted out of my throat. “Court him?” I gasped in between guffaws. “I would very much enjoy seeing you try.”  
“I have no intention of trying,” Una sniffed, although she seemed put off by how amusing I found the proposition. “It’s Father who wants me to marry into the royal family. I can assure you I do not share his desires.”  
“And what is it that you do want?” I asked, genuinely curious. Una was turning out to be much more of a character than I had originally assumed.   
“It’s silly,” she said quickly, her eyes taking on a faraway look.   
“More so than expecting to marry Loki?” I snorted.  
“No,” she grumbled. “Even I am not that delusional.”  
“Well then,” I exclaimed, “let’s hear it! What does Una Kispindottir want more than anything in the nine realms?”  
She turned to me. “Do you promise not to laugh?”  
“Hmm…” I mused, making a noise of unsureness.   
“Thor.”  
“Alright,” I assured her. “I won’t laugh.”  
Una took a deep breath as if she had to physically prepare herself to force the words out. “I want to be a warrior.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the really long hiatus, I was on vacation in Hawaii. Now that I'm back and school is over I should be posting more frequently. Thanks for reading! :)

ARIS   
“Bye, Mum!” I called, already halfway out the door.  
“Aren’t you going to finish your breakfast?” she asked, running a brush through her thick auburn hair. Hungerd Onundottir was said to possess the most glorious hair in all of Asgard, and I had the misfortune of being her completely-inadequate-by-comparison daughter.  
Although quite lustrous, my mother’s hair was not even her most beautiful feature. Green glass eyes were set like perfectly smooth pebbles in her alabaster skin. Her nose, slim and charming, was placed perfectly in the middle of her face, above full red lips that encased a line of sparkling teeth. As if her countenance had not been blessing enough, my mother also possessed a perfect figure, complete with slender wrists and fingers, which were currently entangled in waves of reddish brown.  
“I’ve got an apple,” I replied, waving the fruit in front of my face. “I’ll eat it on my way to work, which I really should be getting to-”  
“Oh, wait!” Iri interjected, looking up from the piece of toast he had been poking with a fork for some time now. “I have something to show you,” he said, standing up.  
“You finish your meal, young man,” my father snapped, his voice easily carrying across the room to me even with no evident effort expended by Grith. In stark contrast to his svelte wife, my father was a huge, broad-shouldered man, his massive frame spilling out of the rickety wooden dining chair he was leaning back in. “You’re half the size of Ospak’s son,” he announced, his gravelly voice carrying a tone of displeasure, “and no son of mine will be smaller than an Ospaksson.” He folded his muscular arms across his chest to emphasize the seriousness of the matter.  
Iri rolled his eyes. “You didn’t seem to have any problem with Aris becoming a blacksmith when Skuld Ospakdottir decided to take up embroidery. Besides, I can come back to eat later. My job doesn’t require me to leave at the crack of dawn.”  
“You’d better come back and finish, Iri!” our father said, louder than necessary. Then again, it was a rare occasion when any of the words that marched out of his mouth were at an appropriate volume. When Girth Herlusson spoke, the cosmos heard every word. “And I did not approve of your sister’s pursual of such an unladylike occupation, I had just given up hope for her respectability by then.”  
“Oh, Grith,” my mother sighed in an effort to appease him. When she spoke, she commanded the attention of the room as well, although for a very different reason. It was hard to resist the beckoning of the soothingly melodic voice, and there was not a man in Skali that had tried. As a maiden, my mother had been sought after by nearly every available-and quite a few unavailable-suitors. It had astounded the entire town when beautiful, elegant Hungerd had chosen the gruff, wild-haired Grith to accompany her in marriage, although it was no mystery to me. Even I, cynic that I was, could not deny the obvious affection my mother held for her husband. It was this same sort of unprejudiced love that had caused Hungerd to take a strange, lonely child into her home, and I would be eternally grateful that she did.  
“You should finish your breakfast,” I agreed as Iri scrambled out the door after me. “You can show me whatever impractical invention you’ve come up with this time later.”  
“It’s not impractical,” my brother assured me, “and I’ve been working on it for months. I finished painting it last night.”  
I narrowed my eyes and came to a halt outside our single-story house. Like the majority of Skali’s population, we were farmers. A large amount of our property was fields, in which we grew a Midgardian product called “corn.” It had been brought to Skali when the Asgardians visited Midgard and had quickly become a popular crop. Although there was an endless abundance of farms in our town, few of them mass-produced non-Asgardian products, so our corn was always in high demand. The plant grew quite tall, and although a path had been cleared from our house to the road, it was impossible to see in any direction other than forward due to the ocean of stalks surrounding us.  
“You painted it?” I asked. Even more suspicious was the revelation that Iri had spent more than a week on whatever it was. My brother liked to call himself an engineer, but he rarely focused on any device long enough to make it work. We had an empty building next to the barn, which he had deemed “The Workplace.” It was littered with half-finished projects and spare parts. Although I often complained about the mess, I realized it wasn’t very different from my workplace. The only difference was where I had scattered iron and steel, Iri had gears and springs.  
“Yeah! It’s going to be amazing,” he promised.  
“What exactly is it?” I prompted, surveying his expression for clues. He was usually dragging me into The Workplace on a daily basis to show me “this project” and “that machine”, but I hadn’t been invited in for months. I noticed another smear of grease on his shirt. It almost looked like-  
“I’m not going to just tell you,” he scoffed. “You have to come see it!” He grabbed my hand and dragged me back around the house. We edged through the narrow path between the side of the building and the corn fields, the leaves tickling my cheek as I turned sideways in order to fit. Iri, skinny stick that he was, had no trouble darting between the stalks and was impatiently tapping his foot by the time I emerged.  
Behind our house was a barn, which mostly housed horses. The “workplace” stood behind the barn and was confined to a space about half its size. Father had only allowed Iri to repurpose it once he was absolutely certain it could not be used for anything farming related, and even then had only consented once my brother had promised to keep it pristine and organized.  
So, it was a very good thing Father never followed up on this order, or else Iri would have been subject to a lot of yelling and a lot of moving.  
The Workplace was in an even worse condition than the smithy, which was a difficult feat to accomplish. Although it had been a while, my last memory of any sort of “organization” within its walls was nonexistent. As Iri ushered me forward, prodding me towards the entrance to The Workplace, I noticed some crates were collecting around the door.  
“Oh, those are just some spare parts,” he told me when I commented on them.  
“What are they doing out here?” I asked.  
“I had to make room,” he explained.  
“Room for what?”  
“You’ll see!”   
At this point, my curiosity had turned to concern, bordering on worry. What exactly was my brother hiding behind these walls?   
We reached the entrance and Iri flipped open the keypad that would unlock the doors, covering the numbers with his hand as he entered the code. My brother loved to share everything, and would, whether you were willing or not to listen to his detailed descriptions of every single one of his current projects and inventions. However, he was adamantly secretive about the code to unlock The Workplace, so to the best of my knowledge, no one besides himself knew the numbers. In fact, it was likely I was the only outsider allowed in, not that the other villagers were clamoring for admittance. Iri was a bit of an outcast in our old-fashioned town. While the other young men toiled away in the fields or chopped through battle training dummies, my brother was holed up in The Workplace, prodding things with screwdrivers.  
Iri didn’t exactly make an effort to fit in either, although I had long ago given up on berating him for it. My little brother had no interest in being part of society. He wanted to change the future, and if he could do so without talking to the neighbors, that was fine by him.  
The doors opened with a hiss of metal as Iri input the last digit, and he strutted in proudly, spinning around to face me. “What do you think?”  
“Wow. A tarp. Never seen one of those before,” I commented dryly.   
“What?” Iri exclaimed, turning back to inspect the huge, oddly shaped black curtain that had been draped over some sort of massive contraption. “Oh yeah. I covered it up. I knew that.” With a flourish, he yanked off the tarp. A piece of the fabric got caught on something protruding out of the mystery object.   
“Stardust,” Iri cursed, yanking on the edge of the tarp he held in his hand. I rolled my eyes and snatched it away, easily pulling the curtain off.  
“Okay. So. Now, what do you think?”  
“Is that...a spaceship?”  
“Yeah! Is that-is that not obvious?” Iri stammered. His eyes roved over the ship with concern. It wasn’t particularly streamlined or aesthetic with its bulky, square build and long, heavy wings. Still, I was impressed with the lack of parts falling off, and he really had tried to paint it, although my brother’s attempts were a little pathetic.  
The ship was almost completely black, except for a large white diamond painted directly above the cockpit. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the splotch of paint.  
Iri rolled his eyes. “It’s Obsidia’s symbol.”  
“It is? Since when?” I snorted.  
“The members of the Onyx designed it,” he explained.  
“Members of the what?”   
“The Onyx,” he repeated, exasperated. “It’s a secret society. Obsidia’s secret society.”  
“If it’s secret, then how do you know about it?” I demanded, placing my hands on my hips.  
“I didn’t bring you here to talk about the Onyx,” Iri snapped.  
“No, just to show me a spaceship and make me late for work,” I sighed. “There’s no way I’ll make it in time now.”  
A grin split his face in half. “I think I know a way.”  
My eyes widened in realization. “Iri, no,” I stated vehemently, but he was already scrambling towards the ship. He placed his palm on the black metal and a door slid open.  
“Fingerprint scanner,” he informed me as he clambered inside. “Neat, huh?”  
“No,” I hissed, racing after him. “Not neat. Dangerous. Very dangerous!” I leapt inside with a scowl plastered on my face. “And how exactly are you planning on getting this thing out? I hope you’re not going to blast a hole through the roof,” I told him as I looked around the cockpit. It wasn’t particularly roomy, the inside walls plated with cold metal. There were two chairs bolted to the floor and Iri was currently sitting in one located in front of a wide, blank screen. The dashboard was covered in buttons and levers, most with confusing designs imprinted on them. There was one lever, however, that I could guess the purpose of, and Iri’s fingers were curled around it.  
“Don’t need to,” he said in response to my concern, reaching up and flicking a switch located on the ceiling. Seconds dragged by in which I hoped nothing would happen. Then, an alarmingly loud rumbling sound came from overhead.  
“What’s happening?” I exclaimed, looking up only to see the roof of the spaceship.  
“I may have made a few...modifications to The Workplace,” Iri admitted, looking extremely pleased with himself.  
“What sort of modificat-ah!” I shrieked as he thrust the lever forward and the ship immediately began to rumble beneath my feet. “What. Is. Happening?” I demanded again.  
“You’d better buckle in,” was Iri’s only response as he pulled up the harness attached to his seat.  
“Iri, stop this ship right no-” Once again, I was unable to finish my sentence due to the violent shaking of the spacecraft. I stumbled and fell into the passenger seat. When the ship showed no signs of stopping and I heard a whoosh, which I could only assume was the engines, I reluctantly yanked down my harness as well.  
“Oh good,” he remarked. “At least you won’t crash into the windshield now.”  
“Why do I have a feeling that's the least of my problems?” I grumbled, trying to peer down through the side window. To my horror, I realized we were hovering above the roof of The Workplace-or rather, a gaping hole where the roof had once been. Iri clicked the button on the ceiling again and the two sheets of metal that had parted to let us out began to merge back together.  
“Admit it,” he insisted. “You’re impressed.”  
“I wonder what Dad will say,” I responded.   
Iri paled. “He doesn’t need to know.”  
“I think he’s going to notice a giant spaceship flying over his house,” I snorted.  
“Not if we’re invisible,” he replied. He pressed another button and the screen in front of him flickered to life. A model of the ship appeared and he zoomed in on a funnel-shaped protrusion located in the center of the ship. “Activate Invisibility Shield,” he ordered.  
“It’s voice operated?” I asked, disbelieving.  
“Activating Gravity Field,” announced an automated voice. I identified its source as the speakers above us.  
“No, no, no!” Iri shouted. “Um, uh-abort! Abort command!”  
“Command aborted,” the computer informed us.  
He sighed and took in a breath. “Activate Invisibility Shield,” he repeated, this time carefully articulating each word.  
“Activating Invisibility Shield,” it said. On the screen, I saw a ray of light rise out of the funnel as the ship began to hum. As the beam of light rose, waves of rippling white expanded out of it, encircling the ship in a bubble on the monitor. I looked out the window to see a sheen of electricity.   
“Invisibility Shield activated.” The ship faded away on the screen.  
“So...are we invisible?” I confirmed. Apparently, my brother’s engineering abilities had vastly improved.  
“The doubt in your voice wounds me,” Iri said in answer. “Yes, we’re invisible. Or we should be, anyway. I don’t hear Dad yelling at us, so that’s a good sign.”  
“You think we’d be able to hear him from here?” I asked as we sailed away from our house. An ocean of golden corn stalks swayed beneath us, eventually giving way to rolling green pastures, pockmarked with a smattering of buildings as we drew closer to the city. Normally, it would take me at least an hour to get from the house to the smith. With Iri’s ship, it looked as if it would be only a matter of minutes.  
Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to the smith.  
“I’d think we’d be able to hear Dad from Jotunheim,” he replied, pulling another lever to the side. The ship banked to the right and I clutched the dashboard to keep from falling out of my seat.  
“I heard the new ships had holographic controls,” I told him. In truth, I hadn’t heard it; I had seen it in one of my excursions to Dagson’s palace. I liked to keep a close eye on any new technology and weapons he accumulated and had acquainted myself with one of the newer models of aircraft Kispin kept in his docking area a few months ago. He’d probably updated since then. I made a mental note to survey any new technological advancements within the palace during my next visit. I had meant to scope out the docking bays last night, but once I had tracked the cloaked figures to the castle and determined their purpose, spaceships had been the farthest thing from my mind. I smiled, the secret knowledge I had gained and the knowledge of how I was going to use it filling me with elation.  
“Holographs block the window,” Iri snapped, quick to justify any faults I might’ve believed his ship had. “Forgive me if I care more about not crashing to our deaths than holographs. Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss the view.” I looked out the window and found myself in reluctant agreement. He had tilted the ship downwards in order to get a better perspective of Skali, which we were now directly on top of. I was used to shadows, and the feeling of conspicuousness as we hovered only ten or so feet above the tallest buildings, in plain view of every citizen and guard going about their day, was more than unsettling, but Iri’s so-called “invisibility shield” appeared to be working. Otherwise, I was nearly positive every town member would be pointing up at the sky and shouting. Asgard was not lacking for modernness or cutting edge technology, but Skali was a town of farmers. Kispin had only implemented spacecrafts into his arsenal recently, so the sight of a spaceship was an uncommon one.  
“Next stop, Eid’s Forge,” Iri announced, smiling as he steered the ship to the left, coming to a stop twenty feet above the smith. We were located on a fairly popular road, and I looked down to see a swarm of people hurrying through the streets.  
“Uh, where are we going to land?” I asked, looking down at the decidedly obstructed area below us.  
That question wiped the smirk right off my brother’s face. “Oh...I hadn’t really…”  
I rolled my eyes. “Thought of that? Of course not. Drop me off in an alleyway.” Iri’s blunder wasn’t entirely to my disadvantage. Now I wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse for why I couldn’t go into the shop. If Eid saw me, I would immediately be put to work, which would at the very least make it exponentially more difficult for me to slip away, and at the very worst completely spoil Obsidia’s plans.  
Iri mumbled a consent and turned the ship around, quickly bringing it to a stop above a dark back alley a few corners away from the forge. “You’re going to have to jump,” he informed me. “That alley is too narrow for the ship.”  
“Not a problem,” I replied, thoughts of a certain jump I had made twenty feet above the ground to a window sill flashing through my mind as I unbuckled my seatbelt and strode over to the door in the wall of the ship. Iri pressed a button and the panel slid open with a hiss. I curled a firm hand around the strap of my satchel, having no wish for its contents to spill out in my fall, and leaned forward.  
“Hey, wait a second,” Iri said, stopping me in my tracks. I turned back around with a questioning look. “Where’s the necklace?”  
“The wha-oh,” I broke off, brushing the empty space at my collarbone. The pendant was light enough that I hadn’t missed it. I shrugged. “Must have forgotten to put it on this morning.”  
“One day without it wouldn’t hurt. You’re always wearing that ugly thing,” Iri snorted.  
I shot him an offended look. “It’s a relic from my past,” I sniffed and jumped out of the spaceship.  
It was farther than I had estimated, maybe ten feet, and the impact of my feet slamming into the ground sent pain shooting up my legs. I stumbled forward, bracing myself against the sides of the alley.  
“Are you okay?” Iri shouted from above. I looked up.  
“Yeah!” I yelled back to the seemingly empty air. The rumble of the engine was the only evidence of the spaceship’s existence. My brother’s engineering skills really had improved.  
“Great! I’m going to go back before Dad notices I’m gone,” he shouted down. The sound of the engine faded away as I turned around to face the square the alley led into. Dozens of people were milling about. Good.  
Now I had an audience.


	16. Chapter 16

Hey everyone, I hope you had a great Fourth of July! Or just a great Tuesday if you don't celebrate the holiday haha. Anyway, here's the next chapter and thanks for reading. :)  
LOKI  
“My lord! My lord!” I clasped gloved hands over my ears, but the incessant pounding coming from the other side of the door continued. I stood up, back rigid with tension, and stormed over to the front of the room Dagson had assigned to me.   
“What?” I demanded, flinging open the door to reveal a liveried servant hopping from foot to foot, his hand drawn back in preparation for another knock.  
“My lord1” he exclaimed. “I have very grave news, my-”  
“Yes, yes, get on with it,” I urged, already beginning to shut the door.  
“It’s Obsidia!” the servant wailed. “The dreadful Obsidia!”  
“I’m aware that she’s a problem,” I snapped, half of the servant’s face disappearing behind the door, “but you can tell Dagson that until she makes an appearance, there’s nothing to be done.”  
“Oh, but she has, my lord!” the servant beseeched from behind the door. “She has made an appearance, that is. Obsidia has. The dreadful Obsidia.”  
“She’s come out of hiding?” I confirmed, slamming the door open again. “Why didn’t you just say so? How long ago? What is she doing? Where is she?”  
“Oh, oh, oh,” the servant fretted, his mousy brown hair falling around his balding scalp as he continued his infuriating hopping. “Well, my Lord, let’s see, let’s see. The news came perhaps fifteen minutes ago-”  
“Fifteen minutes ago!” I shouted, rushing inside to find my cloak. “Why wasn’t I alerted immediately?”  
The servant poked his head inside, watery blue eyes darting from left to right. “Well, my Lord, you see my lord, the army was alerted first, you see, Kispin wanted to send soldiers out right away, you see, but Gaerhialm asked for you, my lord, but Kispin wanted him to go after Obsidia, that dreadful woman, right away, but Gaerhialm, you see, wouldn’t go, and there was a fight-very dreadful, my lord-”  
“Fine,” I gritted out between clenched teeth, throwing clothes on the ground in my haste to find the cursed cloak. If I’d had the time, I would have strangled the servant with my bare hands, but he had made it very clear I didn’t have the time. No time at all. Fifteen minutes ago! Kispin and I would have to have a talk about immediate contact.   
I yanked the dark green cloak out of the trunk pushed against the wall, throwing it around my shoulders and fastening the ties under my neck as I hurried out the door, pushing past the unbearably irritating servant.  
He scurried after me, his short frame struggling to keep up with my long strides. “Gaerhialm,” I said, turning the corner at the end of the hall. “Is he still here?” I remembered that Kispin had advised a meeting between us. Hopefully, that meeting would be sooner rather than later.  
“I believe so, my lord,” the servant answered, already panting from exertion. He was a thin, sallow man, his golden uniform hanging loosely around his ribs. Already, space was growing between us. Good. I had little use for him.  
“And where would I find him?” I prompted.  
“I believe he was in the courtyard, my lord. I could-” I had already broken into a run, taking the stairs two at a time. Priceless paintings and marble statues blurred by as I raced down the steps, past the hallways, through the gates-  
“Finally!” the man standing in the middle of the courtyard boomed, the features of his face pulled tightly into a mask of disapproval. He could only be the famed Gaerhialm Hamingsson I had heard about, though he was younger than expected. Possibly only 1,400 or 1,500 years old. It made no matter. As long as he could help me catch Obsidia, his age was of little importance to me.  
“His excellence certainly took his time, didn’t he?” Gaerhialm snapped, striding over to me. He was garbed in the familiar armor of the royal guard. The Dagson coat of arms, a pair of white wings, was painted onto the man’s breastplate.  
“I was alerted mere moments ago, thanks to your master’s decision to leave me ignorant of recent events,” I retorted, venom dripping from my words as I studied his profile. With his green eyes, fair hair, and chiseled jaw, there was no doubt that Gaerhialm was handsome, and I was sure that his armor was hiding formidable muscles. “Where is Kispin, might I ask?”  
“He’s not my master,” the man growled, folding his arms across his chest. I noticed that his arm guards, and all his armor, for that matter, was made of iron in lieu of the usual gold. “And he went along with the rest of the guards.”  
“He took all the guards?” I asked, turning to the stables.  
“Yes,” Gaerhialm answered gruffly, following my line of sight. “We can discuss the matter of Kispin’s incompetence on the way. His great, blundering parade of guards will alert Obsidia of our arrival, and she is notoriously hard to catch after she bolts.”  
“Do you think the guards have reached her yet?” I demanded, hurrying towards the stable doors. The sleeping form of the stable boy was lounging on some stacks of hay. My companion quickly remedied that.  
“Oi! Get off your backside and get His Majesty and I some horses,” Gaerhialm barked, giving the boy a sharp kick in the ribs. The child bolted upright, rolling off the stacks of hay and falling in an unceremonious heap onto the floor. He scrambled to his feet, racing around the corner to find suitable steeds. The rows of stables I could see were empty, the horses surely taken by the army of guards Kispin had brought with him. I found it undeniably suspicious that Skali’s lord had decided to ride off without me. It seemed that something had been said to change his mind about the usefulness I presented to the cause of apprehending Obsidia. It only made me all the more determined to end this fool’s errand once and for all.  
“Obsidia is presenting in the middle of the town. We can catch up to Kispin, but only if we leave now,” Gaerhialm said in answer to my earlier question. “Where’s that fool brother of yours?”  
“That fool brother of mine is second in line to the throne, might I remind you,” I retorted, appreciating his belligerent tone less by the second, “and we don’t need him slowing us down. Let’s go,” I ordered as the boy came back around the corner, leading the horse I had ridden from Asgard and a speckled gray gelding with him, fully tacked.  
“Might be we don’t wait for him, but I say he should be contacted all the same,” he grumbled, snatching the reins from the boy, who looked prepared to bolt as soon as I relieved him of my horse. “You, boy!” Gaerhialm said, pointing the index finger of his gauntlet at the stableboy seconds before he could escape. “Go track down Thor and tell him we’ve gone after Obsidia,” he ordered. “I won’t be facing the wrath of the thunder god just because his brother doesn’t think we need him.”  
I scowled, grabbing my reins as the boy scampered off in search of Thor. “It is not your place to question my decisions.”  
“It most certainly is my place,” he snapped back, defiance glowing in his emerald green eyes as he led his horse out into the courtyard and hoisted himself onto the saddle. “I’ve been tracking Obsidia for years. Might I remind you that I was the only member of the guard to ask after the whereabouts of King Loki? I even waited for you, instead of going on with the rest of the group to stop Dagson from ruining my chances at catching that she-devil. If I say I think your brother can help, then he does, although for now, we’ve squandered away enough time.” With that proclamation, Gaerhialm snapped his horse’s neck around and rode out the courtyard gates, not even looking back to see if I would follow.


	17. Chapter 17

THOR  
“Good, good-that’s good,” I told her as she brought her sword around to parry mine. Well, the leg-length sticks we had found scattered around the gardens could hardly be called a proper sword, but they would serve our purpose. Una had no prior experience regarding swordsmanship, so the intricate delicacy of proper technique that required a well-made blade was not something I concerned myself with yet.  
It would be soon, though. She was eager to learn, and she did it quickly-and well. I’d have to find her a real tutor before we left. I was more skilled in the art of flinging Mjolnir at oncoming attackers than swordsmanship. Perhaps I would ask Sif if she would accept an apprentice. I was sure she would appreciate another female sparring partner.  
“Now, bring the hilt around your head,” I instructed as she stepped awkwardly to the side, leaning away from the next blow, “and now use the long side-yes! That’s right,” I encouraged as she swung the stick around to stop the next hit. “Now take initiative. Try to hit me.”  
She lunged forward, already making the mistake of failing to prepare before she struck. I knocked the weak blow away with ease and brought my stick down on her shoulder, making sure to keep my strength in check. “That was good, but at the end, you have to-”  
“Sir! Sir!” a young, scrawny-looking boy burst into the clearing we were using as a practice ring, his face red from exertion. Una unlocked her sword with a scowl, clearly unhappy to have her lesson interrupted.  
“Yes?” I answered, not unkindly, also lowering my brandished weapon.  
“Sir Gaerhialm…your brother…Obsidia…” the boy wheezed to a halt, placing a hand on one of the hedges to steady himself.  
I strode over in concern, my shadow towering over the child as I placed a steadying hand on his back. Una sauntered over as well, her displeasure forgotten as the boy’s words piqued her interest.  
“Slow down,” I told him. “What’s your name?”  
The boy swallowed another breath of air before answering. “Vigi, Sir,” he panted. “I ran all the way around the castle trying to find you,” he explained.  
“Who sent you?” Una asked, brushing a few specks of dirt off her skirts. I had advised her to change before we began if she didn’t want her dress ruined. She had assured me that nothing would please her more.  
“Sir Gaerhialm,” Vigi answered, his back straightening as he regained his composure.  
“And what is this about my brother and Obsidia?” I prompted.  
“Obsidia has been spotted in Skali. She’s doing another one of her speeches. Your brother and Gaerhialm have already left to go after her.”  
I frowned, displeased but not surprised. It would have been out of character for Loki to wait for me. “How long ago?”  
“Five minutes...m-maybe ten. It took a while to find you.”  
“Of course,” I agreed, soothing the boy’s concerns. “You did well to tell me. You’re the stable boy, aren’t you?”  
“Yes, sir,” Vigi replied proudly, pushing a tuft of bright red hair out of his face.  
“How long do you think it would take to find me a horse, Vigi?”  
“Ah…” he hesitated. “The guards took most of them, but...I think there are some mares left. I could tack one up for you real quick.”  
“Make that two,” Una interjected, meeting my questioning gaze with defiance. I didn’t have time to argue with her, and besides, her diplomatic skills might be helpful in the coming conflict. If Kispin, Loki, and Obsidia were all about to converge, surely no small amount of mayhem would take place.  
“Well, then,” I exclaimed, “we’ve no time to lose.”


	18. Chapter 18

ARIS  
“You all know what the upper class is capable of. Lying. Deceit. Crime. And I have done my very best to stop them, to hold the men and women who think they’re untouchable because of their power accountable, to bring justice to Skali!” I paused here and let the crowd scream a little. There was one thing all mobs, big or small, loved, and that was hearing themselves scream. This one happened to be huge, the hundreds of people crammed into the town square releasing their collective voices in an earsplitting cry. I’d never liked this part. It made me feel like the leader of a cult, and yet the speeches had to be given. Most of my followers had been gained through these public gatherings, and of late it didn’t matter how suddenly I popped up; within minutes, I’d attracted a huge crowd simply to hear me speak.  
“You have all faced hardships. Taxes. Debt. Poverty. And I’ve been right there, suffering along with you.” Suffering wasn’t exactly the right word. We didn’t live a plentiful life, but I did not want for many things. Not like the bedraggled and homeless peasants that trudged through the streets with empty stomachs and cupped hands. They didn’t need to know that, though.  
“I thought, perhaps, that I had been doing some good-bettering your situation, maybe. But it appears I was wrong.” This proclamation was met with cries of disagreement.  
“You have!” one man shouted below me. “You’re a hero!”  
I swallowed deeply, my Adam’s apple bobbing. I was glad the hood I wore obscured my features, or else the crowd would easily have seen the discomfort their words caused. You could never show weakness in front of a mob. A hero on a pedestal could turn into a laughing stock with one small misstep.  
“And I thought,” I continued, “just maybe, that I-that we were beginning to conquer the upper class that has so mercilessly enslaved us. That we were beginning to show them we deserved better-that we deserved the truth! And we do, don’t we?”  
More screaming. An angry tidal wave of wordless agreement.  
“Yet, once again, they have lied. The lords and ladies lie, and lie, and lie, and now they are keeping the biggest secret of all from you. Not to worry, however! He should be arriving any minute.”  
The crowd turned to look up at me, confusion clear on their faces. The correct words would have been, I dearly hoped he would be arriving any minute. I knew the nature of kings, and I knew that one seldom came without pride, and yet there was always the possibility of error.   
Questions and demands for answers began to arise from the crowd. Their voices twisted and merged together into a single chant: who?  
“Patience, my friends!” I called down. “In the eyes of kings, we are but lowly peasants, and he will have us at his own leisure.” A murmur rushed through the crowd as they tried to decipher the meaning of the riddle I presented. In truth, it was not a riddle, but hopefully, they would overthink it long enough to give me time.  
I was beginning to feel a worried dread in the pit of my stomach when I heard the sound I had been straining for. The quiet rumble of hooves, yet unheard by the heedless mob, was music to my ears. He was coming, and with quite an entourage, it sounded like.  
Another minute full of growing whispers and conspiracy-fueled murmurs passed before the soldiers stormed into the crowd. “Ah!” I exclaimed as a golden-plated guard pounded into the center of the square, loosing a war cry as he charged towards me. “It appears he has arrived!” But where?  
The mob, one moment avidly awaiting my response, was now having none of this “patience” nonsense. As the guards converged on the square, the peasants threw each other to the ground in an effort to escape. I was just glad Iri was nowhere near here.   
My relief turned to apprehension once again. Already there were more guards than I had prepared for, and reinforcements had already started streaming from every entrance into the square. By Odin’s beard, had Kispin sent the entire army? It was not until the man in the center of the square, viciously hacking down villagers to reach me, removed his golden helm that I realized Kispin hadn’t sent his army.  
He had brought his army.  
The pale skin, shock of blond hair, and piercing, rage-filled eyes were a dead giveaway-I had viewed those features just yesterday, after all. Kispin had paid no heed to me, just another faceless maid, but I had been avidly watching him.  
And the princes.  
King, I reminded myself. Loki was king now. Odin’s death had happened swiftly, and the passing of the crowns had been just as abrupt. Most of Asgard was just beginning to acclimate to Loki’s ascension to the throne.  
I was certainly about to make that acclimation more difficult.  
Although Kispin’s arrival shocked and flattered me as well-I hadn’t realized how far under his skin I had gotten-he was of little importance in my plan. Perhaps his presence might add to the drama of the show, but I was not keen on getting sliced in half before the big reveal. I took a running leap off the shop roof I had been standing on, aiming for a wheelbarrow near the building. I had barely landed in the soft tufts of hay before I was rolling out of the cart and into the square. I was reluctant to give up my vantage point, as I had yet to find what I was looking for, but getting away from the rampaging lord was a more pressing problem.  
I tried to think about what direction Loki would come from. He had entered Skali in secrecy, so most likely he wouldn’t stray from the shadows again. His mistake.  
He should’ve known I was the queen of shadows.  
I flitted through the frenzied crowd, worried by their terrified screams. They had never screamed like this before, but-there had never been so many guards before. The so-called protectors of Skali didn’t seem to have a problem slaying their countrymen to get to me, either. Just as I was thinking that the situation was spiraling out of my control, a blessing-or perhaps a curse-was bestowed upon me.  
At first, the source of the blasts taking down guards with deadly accuracy was a mystery. A soldier would shout in pain as a bolt of white electricity struck his chest plate and fall to the ground. My brow furrowed in confusion until I heard the cheers of the townspeople around me, their faces all turned upwards.  
I already knew who it was before I forced my gaze to the sky.  
The spaceship, its black exterior cutting a dramatic image against the white clouds, was striking down the throng of guards that had charged the square.  
So much for Iri being nowhere near her.  
I was quite a bit offended that he had failed to tell me about the weapon system he had equipped, and more than that I was furious that he would engage in such a dangerous situation. But those were the worries of Aris, a protective older sister. At the moment I was Obsidia, glad of the cover fire provided by an ally. I took advantage of the bombardment, racing to the outskirts of the square to scout out possible entrances. Surely he would come, surely he had heard by now, surely, surely-  
“There she is, my lord!” I looked up to see a metal gauntlet pointed in my direction, worn by none other than Gaerhialm Hamingsson. My spirits fell as I saw both Kispin and him hone in on my location. As skilled as I was, even I would not be able to fend both of them off simultaneously.  
And then I saw him. A hooded figure, cloaked in green, riding at Hamingsson’s side.  
I smiled.


	19. Chapter 19

LOKI  
I saw the corners of her mouth curve up into the shadows of her hood and felt a distinctly unpleasant feeling in the pit of my stomach. For a woman with two formidable foes charging straight towards her, Obsidia was worryingly unconcerned. She was planning something, and I had a feeling we had ridden right into her trap.  
The spaceship had been a surprise. Dagson had never mentioned Obsidia having such advanced technology at her disposal, and when Gaerhialm had entered the scene to see his men under laser fire, he had been equally surprised. It appeared Obsidia had gained more support than we had accounted for.  
Which made it all the more important that this problem was quashed.  
Immediately.  
It’s now or never, I thought, urging my horse forward despite the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Gaerhialm had graciously supplied me with a dagger, and although I would’ve preferred my own, the one in my hand was crafted finely enough. Gaerhialm had mentioned something about procuring it from Eid’s Forge, supposedly the most skilled blacksmith in all of Skali. I was sure he would be honored to have his weapons handled by the king.  
I pulled the dagger back, preparing to throw it into Obsidia’s heart.  
Though my aim was true, Obsidia dodged it easily, ducking underneath the knife in one fluid moment. The dagger shook with the impact of hitting the wall behind her, the blade firmly stuck in the bricks. A pity, I thought, though I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Thor had said she was skilled at swordsmanship, but I saw no sword on her person-or any kind of weapon, for that matter. From Una’s description of Obsidia’s fighting style, it seemed she valued stealth and mobility over brute strength. I speculated that a heavy weapon would slow her down. She seemed the type to not engage unless necessary.  
This thought was proven correct when she yanked the dagger out of the wall in one vicious motion, twirling around to thrust it in the face of Gaerhialm’s steed. The horse reared in fright and Obsidia was able to slip past him and out into the crowd. My companion roared in fury, desperately trying to gain control of his horse. It appeared Dagson was being hindered by the crowd, giving Obsidia a few moments of respite.  
“Friends!” she shouted, punctuating her words as she flung her arms out to encompass the entire crowd. “Please, gaze upon me as I reveal to you the secrets of your lord!”  
The secrets of Dagson? Had she procured something incriminating regarding him, now? Was that the purpose of this gathering?  
“She speaks only lies!” I heard someone roar-Dagson, the hands of the villagers clinging onto his armor as they tried to drag him into the inescapable ocean of followers. Much of his guard had been shot down, leaving him largely unprotected.  
“Oh, dear Kispin, you misunderstand!” Obsidia shouted, laughter ringing throughout her voice. I tried to listen to her speak, to see if I could discover any clues about her identity, but I quickly realized I would have no luck. It was a showman’s voice, exaggerated and fake. Obsidia was clearly altering her voice greatly; whoever was under the mask would have an entirely different tone in normal speech.  
“Although you as well are mired in lies, it is not the Lord of Skali to which I refer!” Then who-  
I realized too late that she had been moving toward me, almost imperceptibly. I reached up to pull my hood down but realized the action would only cast more guilt upon me, and there was no escape now.  
Obsidia’s glove hand darted out like a snake as she gripped the top of my hood and flung it off.


	20. Chapter 20

Remember when I said I'd be posting more regularly? Well, the house lost air conditioning and I had to stay somewhere else. WITHOUT my computer. :/ Sorry, but thankfully we got AC back pretty quickly, so here's the next chapter. Thanks for reading! :)  
THOR  
As we rode onto the scene, I was unsurprised to see that all Hel had broken loose.  
Obsidia was indeed there, along with a spaceship, a screaming Dagson, a monumentally angry Skalin I took to be Gaerhialm Hamingsson, at least fifty fallen guards littering the square, an uncontrollable mob of crazed citizens, and Loki.  
Unhooded.  
From the horrified gasps radiating out around him and the absolutely livid expression he wore, I was guessing that particular detail had not been in his plans.  
“Looks like the secret’s out,” Una quipped next to me, one eyebrow raised in relaxed amusement.  
“You know this could mean disaster for the mission, don’t you?” I responded although I couldn’t help but feel that my brother had dug his own grave. I had advised against the lies, and now he was paying the price for not heeding the warning.  
Una shrugged. “We have sought after Obsidia for many years. If it is our destiny to chase her for many more, then so be it.”  
I tilted my head in interest. “My dear Una, if I didn’t know better, I would say you didn’t particularly want to catch Obsidia.”  
Una opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by more shouting from the square. We turned back to see Obsidia, arms raised triumphantly. So she speaks.  
“Yes!” she chuckled gleefully. “Gaze upon your King, who hides in the shadow like a gutter rat!”  
“Much like you, Obsidia,” Loki spat, venom dripping from every word. At least he hadn’t tried to deny his identity; that would’ve made matters worse than they already were, if possible.  
“I do not hide,” she responded, almost a whisper, and yet somehow I was able to hear the words clearly from the other end of the square. Her voice had taken on a more serious tone, and I found myself unwillingly intimidated. “I may wear a cape, but it is your kind who hides behind wealth and riches and lies!” Her voice matched his in venom, perhaps even more vicious. This was not a woman to be culled.  
I had known this already, of course.  
I realized, belatedly, that a tense silence had settled over the crowd like a cobweb. Or a noose, tightening with every word. All faces were upturned towards the King in fearful reverence. I wondered how fast their respect would turn to spite when we made our leave.  
If Loki even got out of this alive.  
“Yes,” my brother agreed, addressing the crowd now, “your King is here. I was hidden so that my quarry could be caught by surprise, but it seems that plan has been spoiled.” Loki threw the cloak off and it settled on the ground in a plume of dust, revealing him in all his glory. Raven hair, piercing gaze-undeniably royal.  
“So now, as your King, I command you all to capture this criminal!” My heart fell as his words dropped like stones into the crowd, sending shocked ripples into the lake of faces.  
There was silence for an unsettling minute during which Loki’s countenance twisted into one of absolute rage. Dagson was staring at him in naked fear and, although Gaerhialm hadn’t donned the same reverent expression, he was equally silent. Finally, a villager spoke up.  
“My lord, you are mistaken!” he cried and I closed my eyes with a sigh. It mattered not what his next words were; his death was now sealed. “Obsidia is not a criminal, but a savior. Though Dagson may try to convince you otherwise-”  
“Silence!” Loki roared and my eyes flew open. I had not heard such raw anger from him in ages. I had hoped never to hear it again. Loki was cold, silent, the personification of shadows slithering in the corner, plotting secretly. He was often bitter, easily offended. But when he was angry, oh-  
I had seen enough of his anger for a lifetime.  
“Did I ask you to speak?” he screamed, and the man snapped his gaping mouth shut, finally. “Did I ask you to question my orders? Do I look like a fool to you?”  
I noticed that Obsidia had yet to speak. Perhaps this had been her intention all along-Loki was making a villain of himself easily enough.  
“Obsidia is the worst kind of criminal,” he snarled, “and you will bring me her head!”  
The crowd was no longer silent. The waves were breaking, and hushed voices rushed through the crowd like great gusts of wind. I leaned forward, straining to hear the words they spoke. “Her head? Her head?” The words were repeated over and over again, an endless cycle of disbelief. Up until now, Dagson had made it very clear he wanted to capture Obsidia, but we had never spoken of death.  
Then the wailing began.  
“We cannot, we cannot!” they pleaded. “She is our savior!”  
And then Dagson. “Do as your king commands! Kill her!”  
“Stop!” Una shouted, urging her horse forward. “This is madness!” Her words fell on deaf ears and she looked as if she wanted to charge into the fray.  
“Una, don’t-” I began, but the volume of the square was beginning to reach incomprehensible levels. Just a moment ago the silence had been stifling, and now everyone-everyone-was screaming. Dagson had continued his fruitless struggle towards Obsidia, Gaerhialm was unsheathing his sword, and Loki was blue in the face screaming orders at his “subjects.” Aforementioned subjects were falling to the ground, twisting and writhing in their dismay.  
The screaming was broken, somehow, by laughter.  
Joyous, buoyant laughter, the kind that came from the bottom of your stomach and bubbled out loudly and conspicuously. At first, it was a mystery of the highest degree to find the source of the noise, but the culprit wasn’t trying to hide. The cloaked figure that had instigated this catastrophe and had been subsequently forgotten had somehow scaled a building without drawing attention to herself, and now Obsidia was perched on a ledge above us.  
Laughing.


	21. Chapter 21

ARIS  
I laughed.  
I laughed and laughed and laughed.  
Certainly, I had expected to expose him, had expected to embarrass and ruin him. But this? I wouldn’t have thought it would come to this in my wildest dreams! He had done my job for me, and better than I ever could’ve expected!  
“Gaze upon your king!” I repeated, but this time amusement instead of conviction ran through my voice. “Your king, powerless! Your king, a fool! A laughingstock! Gaze upon your king!”  
As if brought about by my words, a beam of white light fell upon Loki. Although all heads had now turned towards the suspect royal, I looked upwards, sending thanks to the invisible spaceship I knew hovered above. If nothing else, Iri had impeccable timing.  
And a flair for the dramatic.  
Loki, reduced to nothing but a pathetic excuse of a ruler, had clearly had enough. Although the crowd hadn’t dared to actually laugh at him, it was clear they had no inclination to obey him. Despite my exposed state, no one had made a move to strike me down. At this point, the fight wasn’t about me, and Loki understood this. He may have fallen for my trap, but he was no fool. Power laid in the hands of those who held the public’s favor. He turned towards the crowd, reigning in his anger enough to focus. A valiant effort, but I was faster. As he zoned in on the man who had objected to his order first, I leapt from my perch. My cloak billowed up behind me but the hood stayed firmly pulled down over my face. As green light started to wrap around Loki’s hands I landed in the crowd, the townsmen rushing out of my way as I plowed a path towards the intended victim. As I raced past a fallen guard I quickly snatched his sword from his fingertips without slowing. The man was now in view, a terrified look painted on his face. It would have been helpful had he made an attempt to dodge the oncoming attack, but he was clearly paralyzed with fear coming face to face with the King.  
I, most certainly, not.  
I reached the man at the same time as Loki’s magic. The citizen surely would’ve been incinerated if I had not raised the blade to deflect the attack. I was unsure about how his sorcery functioned, as I had never had to face a magic-wielder in Skali. An old-fashioned town used old-fashioned weapons. I had been hoping the blade would absorb the magic, but instead, it reflected it back at its origin. Loki caught it easily, building up more power, and I prepared for an oncoming attack.  
I was alerted to the presence behind me by a warning shout from the crowd. I dove out of the way just as a gilded sword came swinging down in the space where I had been standing, surely intending to slice me in half. Yes, Dagson clearly shared Loki’s thirst for blood. I rolled to the side, already beginning my escape plan. Exposing the king’s masquerade had been all well and good, but there were far too many opponents in the square. I knew my limits, and although I was skilled with a sword, secrecy and espionage were my forte. I wasn’t looking to lose a limb because I had underestimated my adversaries. Still, I thought a display of crowd-pleasing swordsmanship could be managed.  
Not to mention it would show Loki exactly who he was dealing with.  
I wanted the fight on my terms, however, and I wanted an easy out. Judging by the level of blind rage in Dagson and Hamingsson’s eyes, it wouldn’t be a difficult task to lure them away from their advantage. I was sure the fallen guards would soon start to stir, as Iri would never release a maelstrom of deadly fire.   
“Stabbing me in the back, are you?” I chuckled, stepping backward as Dagson charged at me. “I don’t blame you. You’re not the only one too afraid to face me.” In response, Dagson let out a wordless scream of fury and raced towards me, his armor slowing him down to the pace of a lumbering Strotmite. Just as he reached me I slipped out of the way, holding the sword low to the ground as he tripped over it. He came crashing to the ground with a mighty roar. Dagson was a lord, and a poor one at that. He was no warrior.  
I couldn’t say the same for Hamingsson, who had ridden around the crowd and was coming up from my left. He was on horseback, giving him a clear advantage. Why not change that? I smiled, seeing my means of escape. I loitered in the same spot, bouncing on the balls of my feet as if preparing for Hamingsson’s arrival, waiting to engage. His armor was lighter, made for effectiveness and not opulence like Dagson’s golden suit. Consequently, the captain was upon me in a matter of seconds. His sword already unsheathed, he swung it down in an unforgiving arc. I parried easily enough, but out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Loki’s gaze narrowing on me.  
Move now, my instincts told me, and I did. We were standing on the edge of the crowd, most of the civilians cleared out of the way. They had formed a ring around us, serving as spectators to the macabre dance we were locked in. I blocked several more attacks without thinking, letting Hamingsson push me towards the low-hanging ledge of a shop situated on the side of the road.  
“Out of the way, Gaerhialm!” Loki roared, releasing a flood of magic towards me. The blast was too wide to be reflected by the slender sword I was using, not to mention the weapon was currently engaged in fending off Hamingsson. Instead, I reached up and grabbed the ledge, easily swinging up and onto the roof. Hamingsson’s sword swung through thin air and Loki’s magic blasted a hole through the shop wall. I winced. So much for champion of the commoners; I was causing the destruction of their stores. They would surely blame Loki for such things, but I still felt the weight of the guilt.  
At least the destruction had provided information. Metal reflected Loki’s magic, wood could be destroyed. I noticed that the green light had fizzled out after smashing a three-foot wide hole through the wall, so clearly, his power didn’t have infinite range. It would take awhile for him to generate enough energy to hit me from this distance, so I was safe on the roof for now.  
Or so I thought.  
“Clever, clever,” someone drawled behind me and I whirled around, facing a figure hidden within the folds of a brown cloak. I cocked my head.  
“The brother. I’d forgotten about you.”  
“Oh,” Thor whined in mock hurt, “you wound me!” I looked for the telltale glint of silver at his waist or in his hands, but Mjolnir was nowhere to be found. In fact, the prince seemed to wear no weapon at all. Curious indeed.  
He lunged for me suddenly and I darted out of the way. Unlike Dagson, who had put his very heart and soul into his attack and had fallen flat on his face after failing, Thor fought with intelligence and control. The lunge had been a test to scope out my reflexes, which I had revealed to be more than ample.  
“Fast, too,” he commented. The sounds of the crowd below faded as we circled each other. Finally, I thought.   
A worthy opponent.


	22. Chapter 22

LOKI  
I watched Obsidia and a hooded figure who could only be Thor spar on the roof of the building. Although the two were much too close to have a safe shot at Obsidia, I felt the urge to blast my magic at them all the same. I would hit her this time, I was sure of it. And if Thor happened to be caught in the crossfire, well then-  
I was willing to sacrifice anything to see Obsidia’s head on a spike.  
But if I killed Thor, there would be repercussions, worse than the ones I knew I would face after my reveal. I now had limited time to capture her; once word got around that I was out of Asgard, the city would be vulnerable to attack. Lady Sif and the warriors three were all back at the palace, where I expected they would handle matters well enough, but I couldn’t expect them to hold the city alone in the event of an attack. The Dark Elves had weakened our defenses, and we weren’t finished rebuilding. But with the all-consuming rage that had come over me, I was almost tempted to swear I’d see my mission through no matter what.  
No. I have fought too long and too hard to gain the throne, only to fall victim to the same obsession that now consumes Dagson. Obsidia was certainly a problem, but she was one that had to be solved with a level head, something I hadn’t had when I’d made the decision to come to Skali. But I’d come, and I was here now. I would weather the storm and defeat the evil.  
And then they would see. They would see I was fit to be king.  
“Milord.” I looked down in surprise, quickly turning to distaste, as I saw Dagson gazing up imploringly at me.  
“Yes, Kispin?”  
“What shall we do? Obsidia is engaged in combat. Unprotected,” he added, a dangerous glint re-entering his eye. “Distracted.”  
“With my brother, no doubt,” I reminded him. “Do you wish for me to take him out as well?”  
“N-no m’lord, that’s not-the intended meaning was mistaken-”  
I waved a hand through the air to end his babbling. “Yes, yes, I know what you meant. But Thor will take care of her well enough.” I remembered what Thor had said, about Obsidia being a commoner. Well, he was a master of weapons, his skill honed through years of experience. I would be impressed if Obsidia lasted five minutes against him.  
But, as five minutes came and went, I was reminded of the other comment Thor had made. And do you share this belief? That she is but a member of the lower class?  
She certainly does not fight like one.  
“No,” I murmured aloud, “she certainly does not.”  
“What was that, m’lord?” Dagson asked, unable to tear his attention away from the rooftop spectacle. Thor was clearly advantaged in terms of weight and size, and he certainly wasn’t slow either, but Obsidia-  
Too fast. She was just too fast.  
And too smart. She saw his attacks coming in the seconds between each blow. Although I couldn’t see her eyes, I could tell that she watched-everything. Every telltale inhale, every minute shift to the left or right that Thor made-she saw it. Used it. Blocked, or dodged, or distracted. She was gaining no ground-in fact, she might have been losing some. It didn’t matter. Control passed from Thor to Obsidia and back so quickly it was a trial following the fight.  
If only I had noticed where she was going.  
She did an elaborate move involving the twist of an ankle, striking for Thor’s calf as she spun away. He leapt up, clear of the sweeping sword. Similar to the move she pulled on Dagson. But Thor had learned. I smirked in smug pride before remembering who I was complimenting. Thor, my rival, my enemy no matter how many times he called me brother. I had lived in his shadow. I had been willing to give up my very soul just to earn the admirers that fawned after him, and now I was proud of how he was fighting?  
If I was reluctantly impressed with anyone, it was Obsidia. Mere moments ago I had room only for rage in my heart, but now that I had cleared my head, I had to admit admiration for her skills. She used razor-sharp intelligence instead of blades, lightning quick reflexes instead of arrows, and a strength of will rather than strength of muscle.  
She fights like me. The thought came to me, unprecedented, in a flash of clarity. The only way I had gotten by during physical training in my childhood was by using trickery and knowing when to get out of the way. I supposed, in a way, Obsidia and I were the same. Both confined to the shadows, viewed as lesser by those that were stronger than us-  
No, no. I am nothing like her. I hated her. She was the bane of my existence, the obstacle to my acceptance. I would not be a shadow like her.  
I would be King.


	23. Chapter 23

THOR (23)  
Dodge. Dodge. Attack. Riposte. Dodge. Attack. I executed my moves thoughtlessly, captivated instead by Obsidia’s patterns. How in Hel was she so fast? I supposed she’d had years to practice evading Kispin’s guards.   
She had gotten better since I’d seen her last.  
I had been surprised when Loki had told me he was heading out to Skali to capture Obsidia; I thought that surely the Skalin soldiers had already managed to apprehend her. But clearly, her methods had advanced along with the guards. If I couldn’t defeat her, Kispin’s army of fools certainly couldn’t either. We needed someone that matched her for intellect and cleverness, and I had a certain person in mind, one who was more than willing to donate time to the cause.  
Although I didn’t dare to spare a glance at my brother what with the relentless barrage of return attacks raining down on my front, I could guess at exactly what he was feeling. Bristling anger, surely, but hopefully his emotions were more in check than they had been when he ordered a death threat on Obsidia. The fact that he hadn’t tried to kill us both with an uncontrolled wave of deadly magic was a good sign.  
But perhaps, if I could just outsmart her once, I could fell her right now. The problem would be over, and although I would derive little joy from seeing the town’s hero clapped in chains, at least my brother would be marginally satisfied. Not to mention I would have control over the situation and could prevent him from killing her on sight. My thoughts preoccupied with such fanciful notions, I didn’t notice where she was going.  
If only I had noticed where she was going.  
I had managed to effectively block out the roars from the crowd below us, who had yet to disperse. I supposed they were used to such spectacles when Obsidia was a permanent resident. Perhaps they were even entertained. Well, they wouldn’t be so exuberant when I threw her from the roof into the waiting hands of Kispin and the guards.  
I was alerted, too late, to our proximity to the edge of the rooftop by a roaring noise suddenly filling my eardrums. I looked up, as that appeared to be the origin of the sound, but saw nothing. I did see over Obsidia’s shoulder to where open sky stretched behind her. It wasn’t a particularly long drop, but-  
“Thor, watch out!” I heard Una warn, too late, as my foe struck a vicious blow to my stomach with a gloved hand. If my senses hadn’t been so overwhelmed with pain, I might have taken note that she had neglected to utilize the considerably more deadly sword in her right hand. Instead, I let out a pained grunt, taking a step back to regain my composure.  
My final mistake.  
She stepped back as well and at first, I felt triumphant hope. She was balanced precariously on the edge of the roof, about to topple off. If I could just unbalance her, she would surely fall. I stumbled forward, still unsteady from the force of her punch, and lunged for her.  
She leapt, of course, but that had been my intention. I rushed forward, ready to send her crashing to the ground.  
But she didn’t fall back down.  
“What in Odin’s beard-” I exclaimed, looking up in utter confusion as she hung suspended in thin air. My first thought was sorcery, followed by Loki, but I didn’t see the familiar green of his magic. And what in Hel was that incessant roaring noise? It sounded almost like an engine-  
“The spaceship!” Una shouted, once again coming to the conclusion a moment too late. “She’s getting away!”  
“Goodbye, my friends!” she yelled cheerily. “I hope you enjoyed my presentation!” With this quip, she suddenly disappeared from sight. I realized, finally, that the spaceship that had shot down the guards was currently employing some sort of invisibility shield. Now that I was actually paying attention, the strange, shimmery white bubble that slightly distorted my surroundings was blindingly obvious. The only other indication I had that my theory was correct was when the noise increased to an even more unbearable decibel-the engines, preparing to launch the craft away from danger. In a final fruitless attempt, I clawed blindly at the air but was quickly blasted back by the force of the engines as they engaged.  
I rose groggily from the roof slats I had fallen on, the sounds of the crowd returning to me as the roar of the engines finally dissipated.


	24. Chapter 24

ARIS  
I laughed in delight, forgetting myself, as Loki cast a web of green magic across the sky, the tendrils of light desperately groping for any sign of the craft. Iri flew low, bypassing the web and Loki’s detection. We were quickly free of the square and from danger with the ship blasting at full power, but my joy was short-lived.  
As I turned to look back at Iri, my brother, I realized how much trouble I was really in.  
I involuntarily took a step back as he turned to face me, unabashed excitement alight in his eyes. “Odin’s beard!” he swore, gazing up at me. “Is it really you?”  
“Ah-h,” I stammered, already uncomfortable with the path our conversation was going down. “Thank you, for your help. I certainly would’ve been done for without you.”  
Iri’s entire face flushed with pleasure and I instantly regretted feeding into his obsession. Perhaps if I behaved atrociously enough, he would become disillusioned with the figure of Obsidia. Yet even I couldn’t bear to crush his hopes so cruelly.  
I couldn’t just let him off the hook, though. I was his sister. He was my responsibility.  
“I have to say, though,” I chided gruffly, lowering my voice an octave. “That was a dangerous stunt you pulled back there. And you look far too young to be partaking in any sort of rebellion.” Hypocritical, considering I’m only a few decades older than him. “Best leave the fighting to professional troublemakers like myself.” I forced out a hearty chuckle, but his face fell.  
“Oh-I thought-I’m sorry.”  
He looks like a Hunvalp that’s been kicked in the stomach. “No, no, you did well, Iri!”  
He looked up in confusion. “How do you know my name?”  
A myriad of swears so vile my mother would faint if they were uttered in her presence went through my mind at that question. Fool, I spat at myself. Obsidia wouldn’t know his name! “Ah, well, that’s a good question.” Think of something, think of something. “How could I not know the name of the famed Iri Kadalsson, greatest inventor in Skali?”  
I thought my voice sounded far too forced and shaky to be convincing, but Iri’s face lit up in absolute delight. “Oh, so you’re involved in the Onyx!” His brow furrowed. “Why haven’t you tried to contact us, then?”  
What in Hel is the Onyx-I thought back quickly to what Iri had said in the Workplace. It’s a secret society. Obsidia’s secret society. I had been too distracted by the spaceship to take note of what he said, but if I did have a secret society working in my name, I certainly needed to investigate it. Iri probably assumed I had previous knowledge of their work.  
But I didn’t. I hadn’t heard an inkling of this so-called “secret society” until Iri had mentioned, yet now I was ensnared in the lie. The only feasible reason why I knew his name was through this Onyx society, so now I would have to fake my way through this ordeal.  
I realized he was still looking at me, awaiting an answer. What had he asked? Oh yes. Why I hadn’t made contact with my own secret society, which I somehow hadn’t known about.  
“Uh-well, you see-I entered your ranks as an outsider, and not as myself. In order to...gain objective information about how you...operate.” Please believe me, please believe me, please-  
“Oh, of course!” Iri exclaimed, his face clearing in perfect understanding. I offered a silent prayer to whatever higher being had been kind enough to bestow such dumb luck-and such a dumb brother-on me. “So you could view the Onyx from the outside. Probably a good idea. Some of the members are a bit crazy about you.”  
It took every ounce of control in my body to hold back the laughter bubbling in my throat. A bit crazy about me? I knew one devotee whose levels of obsession surpassed all others, and I was looking right at him.  
“Of course, of course,” I chuckled. “Wouldn’t want it to go to my head.”  
Iri sighed and looked up at me with reverent eyes. “Wow, you’re so humble. S’pose I shouldn’t be surprised, since you’re the champion of the lower class, right? I guess humble is kind of your thing.” His eyes widened as he jerked up. “Wait-are the rumors true? Are you really a commoner? Where did you learn to fight like that? You must have learned from a master.”  
This is not going to end well. “Uh-well-unfortunately, I am incapable of answering these questions. For the protection of my identity of course.”  
He nodded in understanding, although I could see he was disappointed. Maybe one day-but no, best not to think of that. This secret was mine to bear, and it wouldn’t do to fantasize about sharing the burden with someone else, much less my brother. He had enough to worry about, what with our father’s constant concern and the looming expectation to find a job and secure a stable future. He was growing up, and it was high time for him to grow out of this obsession. I didn’t know how he would react when he found out, but I doubted discovering his own sister had been masquerading as the famed hero would put out the flames of his curiosity.  
“So,” he said slowly, his voice pulling me back to reality, “does this mean you’re a member of the Onyx?”  
“Well,” I began my denial, feeling sweat start to trickle down my neck.  
“Are you Arnora? Gorm? Ingithora?” His excited outburst startled me into silence. “No, you couldn’t be Ingi, she’s too tall. You’re pretty short, aren’t you?”  
“Uh-it helps to fit into small spaces?” I offered.  
He nodded in thoughtful agreement. “Oh yeah, I guess it would be hard to sneak around if you were tall. Too conspicuous. So where do you want me to drop you off?”  
I blinked at him, realizing I hadn’t spared any thought on the topic. “Anywhere far away from the square, I suppose.” Maybe I should ask him to drop me off near Eid’s-no, no, he had already dropped Aris off there; if I asked for the same location, he would surely be suspicious. It was a miracle he hadn’t realized who I was already. For the first time in my decades of vigilantism, I realized how shoddy of a disguise a hood was. It was already pulled as low as it could go over my features, but if I moved the wrong way or brushed it away carelessly, well-  
The secret would be out. I stepped backward, towards the doors.  
“We could go to the Jet,” Iri offered. I frantically searched my memories in vain, trying to recall if I’d heard the term “Jet” before. It was a Midgardian term, wasn’t it? For the commercial spaceships-no, no, they called them airplanes-that could hold hundreds of people. Our spacecrafts were faster, sleeker, and more efficient. Why would Iri want to take me to a Jet.  
He had used the word as if I was expected to know what it entailed, however. Perhaps it had something to do with the Onyx. If anything, it was another mystery my brother was embroiled in, and it was my responsibility to investigate it.  
“Yes, yes, a fine idea,” I agreed, unaware of what I had just gotten myself into. “Let’s go to the Jet.”


	25. Chapter 25

LOKI   
“Scheming face,” Thor announced, shattering the careful silence that had settled over the somber party gathered around the low table. Maps, records, and sketches were scattered across its wooden face, hanging off the edges and laid haphazardly across the floor.  
“What?” I asked, voicing the thoughts of both Kispin and Gaerhialm, who were also staring at Thor peculiarly. Una, somehow, seemed to know what he was talking about.  
Thor stood from his chair, which had looked far too small for his massive frame anyways. He was the only one of us who had been sitting, the only one of us who seemed unbothered, somehow, by recent events. “Scheming face,” he repeated, his shoulders releasing a startling crack as he stretched. I supposed he had come out of it worse off than all of us-even more so than Kispin, who was sporting a nasty black eye from his spectacular failure to stop Obsidia. It had been an impressive fight between my brother and that she-devil, and a prolonged one. It was a miracle neither of the two hadn’t passed out from exhaustion and plummeted off the roof altogether.  
And yet here Thor was, seemingly uninjured, and content up until this point to provide no help in the impossible task before us.  
“That’s your scheming face,” he elaborated when we were all unable to grasp his meaning from the two mysterious words. “I’ve seen it before when we were children. It always preceded a very risky and dangerous plan, which more often than not ended in disaster. Please assure me that’s not the case right now.”  
“We’re not children anymore, Thor,” I said, in lieu of answering the unspoken question.  
What are you planning? The gaze he leveled at me said without wasting breath on words. It seemed he was predisposed to disapprove of whatever plan I was concocting, though perhaps his concern was warranted. My plans had a tendency to end in disaster for everyone...except me.  
“I’m well aware of that,” he responded, turning fully to face me. “We’re playing with lives now, and not just our own. Not just Obsidia’s. There are innocent people in this town-”  
“All who worship Obsidia cannot be innocent-”  
“Oh, do shut up, Kispin!” Gaerhialm exclaimed, eliciting shocked looks from both Thor and I. Una, on the other hand, was putting little effort into hiding her smirk. She had chosen her spot leaned against the wall behind her father well, not that it mattered. Kispin was far too distracted with glaring daggers at his general to notice his daughter’s mirth.  
“We’ve all heard it before,” Gaerhialm continued, despite the obvious malice his Lord was harboring. “Obsidia’s a criminal, Obsidia is the scum of Asgard. Her followers are just as bad, guilty of the most heinous crime that is-” He gasped noisily in mock horror. “Disagreeing with Kispin!  
“So you’re on her side, then?” Kispin demanded, his voice rising. I was surprised he hadn’t asked for Gaerhialm’s decapitation, not that the lord had the backbone to carry the order out.  
“I’m on my own side,” Gaerhialm replied, folding his arms across his chest in an easy swagger.  
“Now that we know where everyone stands,” I said, cutting off whatever biting retort Kispin was surely about to give. “May we please focus on the task at hand?”  
Thor leaned over the table in a poor attempt at looking interested, though his focus on the “task at hand” was quickly interrupted by a meek knock on the door.  
We all looked up in curiosity, apart from Una, who hurried to the entrance just before her father could stop her. “Wait-” Kispin began to stutter, his face losing its pallor by the second, but Una’s slender fingers were already turning the doorknob and they had no intentions of stopping. She flung open the door to reveal the source of the Skalin lord’s terror.  
A 2,500-year-old woman, about five feet in stature, stood in the doorframe.  
“Mother!” Una exclaimed in obvious delight, although the announcement wasn’t necessary to make the connection. Though Lady Dagson’s skin was perhaps a few shades darker than her daughter’s, they shared the same elegant face, bold brows, and thick, raven hair. The only discernable difference was their eyes; while Una’s were as blue as a Midgardian sea, her mother’s were amber flecked with gold and held infinite wisdom in their liquid depths.  
“Dalla,” Kispin grumbled as a greeting, considerably less ecstatic about the current development than his daughter. Gaerhialm gazed on in impassive boredom, but Thor was much more captivated by this new character than the greatly important discussion we had been having.  
“This must be Lady Dagson!” my brother laughed, walking towards the door with an amiable expression. I hovered behind, interested to see how the positively tiny woman would handle the behemoth that was my brother.  
“Thor!’ she said-no, said wasn’t the right word. Her voice was more like the boom of a cannon. It was beyond me how such a tiny frame could generate such a massive sound. “I have heard much about you!”  
And then she hugged him.  
Una knew what was happening before Thor and I did, but by then it was too late. Dalla stepped towards Thor with outstretched arms and before I could blink, she had the god of thunder gripped in a vice-like embrace. I was certain I heard Thor’s back emit a cracking sound, and he appeared to be losing oxygen by the second. Just as his face was starting to gain an interesting blue pallor, Dalla suddenly released him. I noticed that Una was snorting with laughter at the spectacle, though she quickly donned a straight face when her mother turned a suspicious eye on her. Apparently satisfied that her daughter was behaving appropriately-an incorrect assumption-Dalla turned back to Thor with a positively blinding smile.  
“Goodness me!” she laughed heartily, putting her hands on her narrow hips. “So good to have you back! So, what brings you to Skali?”  
Back? Oh yes, Thor has been here before. Perhaps I should ask him about this previous visit. An idea for a later time. Now, I was faced with the more pressing problem of avoiding a bone-crushing hug from Dalla. Thor was a hardier warrior than me, to say the least. I didn’t think I’d survive the experience if I was subjected to any physical shows of affection from Lady Dagson. Thankfully, she seemed more occupied with Thor.  
“Your husband summoned us, actually,” he replied, raising a brow. “Surely he told you of his intentions?” Thor turned towards Kispin, whose lips were pressed into an unforgiving line. They turned upwards in a painful attempt at a smile when placed under the scrutiny of both Thor and his displeased wife.  
“Ah-well-I didn’t think-I didn’t think Dalla would be interested in…such things.”  
Dalla raised an eyebrow and leaned against the doorway with folded arms. “Oh, you didn’t, did you? Well, my dearest Dagson,” she sniffed, sashaying into the room, “you were quite mistaken. What have we here?” She peered over the table littered with parchment and sketches.  
“That,” I announced from the corner I had been lurking in, previously unnoticed, “is all the progress we have made on forming a plan to catch Obsidia. As the lady of Skali, I am quite sure you are aware of her presence and the dangers she presents.”  
“I’m aware that the lot of you bungled a confrontation with her just this morning.”  
I raised a brow at this informal tone. “Do you know who I am, Lady Kispin?”  
“I most certainly do, King Loki,” she retorted, her skirts swishing as she turned to face me. She was dressed in a similar fashion to Una, adorned in thick velvet fabric, but unlike her daughter, she wore the dress comfortably, like a second skin. Like a reminder that one could be as intimidating in a ball gown as they were in a full suit of armor.  
And so I met the first Asgardian I actually respected in Skali.  
“Well, now that you’re here,” I stated, the barest hint of a smile playing across my face, “do you think you could lend a hand?”  
Her eyes widened, nearly imperceptibly. I had surprised her, a feat not easily accomplished judging by her unshakable demeanor. Her gaze quickly sharpened with wicked ferocity, however.   
“Well now,” she exclaimed, her knuckles emitting a loud crack as she stretched them, “let’s see if I can’t help you.”


	26. Chapter 26

THOR  
SKALIN TAVERN, 258 YEARS AGO  
As was customary whenever the crown prince of Asgard entered the room, every head turned towards me as I stomped into the tavern. The heavy soles of my boots boomed against the peeling hardwood of the inn, ensuring that all in a one-mile radius had heard my entrance. Good. The more attention the better. I was here for a reason, and using my status was the best way to complete my task. My brother surely would’ve disproved, would’ve preferred to lurk in the shadows and eavesdrop on nearby conversations, but Loki wasn’t here. He had declined my offer, somehow uninterested with the most interesting news in all of Asgard:  
Obsidia.  
Albeit, it wasn’t common knowledge outside the otherwise average seaside town, but I was always on the lookout for up and coming heroes, and Obsidia most certainly was, if the stories were to be believed.  
And I intended to find out if the stories could be believed.  
“Wh-wh-what-ah, my Prince!” stuttered a ruddy-faced bartender, stumbling around the countertop. The self-serving conveyor belt shuttered to a stop, various mugs of ale that had been flying down the table sloshing alcohol over the sides as they halted abruptly. The electronic bar was an outdated design, the technology in desperate need of replacement. I supposed I couldn’t expect better from a dingy inn like this one. “Welcome to the Illuminator.”  
“Interesting name,” I remarked, still holding the attention of what looked to be at least fifty people crammed into the musty room. A rickety set of stairs led up to a second floor of overpriced rooms for the desperate traveler. I was surprised at the crowd. Did Skali truly not have a better place to convene?  
But these were peasants I was dealing with. I couldn’t forget that.  
“It is because we seek to enlighten all that come here,” a deep yet unmistakably female voice boomed from a corner of the inn. One of the sputtering orbs used to light the building hung above her, casting her in a flickering spotlight.  
“Is that so?” I chuckled, tossing the scarlet fabric of my cape over my shoulder as I cut a path towards her. The material was too fine for this grimy inn and these unwashed commoners who practically dove out of the way to clear a path. I did my best to keep the sneer off my face at their groveling forms.  
The female, garbed in a thick cape as well-red, like my own, although the color was dull compared to my finery-sat alone at a table near the back of the inn. The hood was pulled over her head, concealing her identity, her face tilted downwards to gaze at the mug of ale in her calloused fingers.   
I sat down opposite her, the stool creaking beneath my impressive weight. “Yes,” she said, her voice quiet yet somehow simultaneously decisive. “What knowledge do you seek, Thor Odinson?” I opened my mouth to condemn the lack of respect in her addressment, but the words caught in my throat. Two glowing orbs, amber and gold, floated within the folds of her hood. Eyes, I realized, although the brilliance of their color looked almost unnatural. Those were eyes. The gold which had glowed so brightly seemed to recede after the initial shock, allowing me to untangle my own gaze from hers and survey the rest of her face. Umber brown skin, bold brows, a regal face framed by thick braids-an impressive countenance, but it was not her face that shocked me. It was the powerful frame I could make out beneath her tattered riding clothes, the defined arms and the strong column of her neck. This was a warrior if ever there was one.  
“Who are you?” I demanded.  
She smiled wryly. “No one of note.” I narrowed my eyes. Perhaps I need not travel far to search for Obsidia; perhaps the woman before me was who I sought. But then I recalled the speculations of the commoners on Obsidia’s age. What had surprised them was her age-absurdly young, to be defying the Lord of Skali. They’d said she must have been in her 900’s, 970 at most. This woman, on the other hand, was easily in her 2,000’s. No, she couldn’t be the famous-or infamous, depending on who you asked-Obsidia.  
But perhaps she could point me in the right direction.  
“That may be true,” I said in response to her crude self-description, though I doubted it to be, “but if you won’t give me a name, what shall I call you?”  
She smirked, considering, as she swirled the contents of her mug around before taking a swig. “You can call me Aldla,” she announced after slamming the mug back down on the table, startling the patrons who had surely been eavesdropping around us. I noticed that the previously full cup had been drained of ale.  
I leaned forward, placing a hand on the table as my voice lowered.  
“Perfect. Now tell me Aldla, what do you know of a girl who goes by the name...Obsidia?”


	27. Chapter 27

ARIS  
I was quickly coming to regret my decision, though I’d grown accustomed to that sinking feeling of dread recently. It seemed my decision-making skills had grown poorer as soon as Loki and his brother had set foot in Skali. Yet perhaps their advent would not turn out as calamitously for me as they hoped. I was certain word would spread that the king was here, and if he failed to catch me quickly, it could bring some much-needed attention to my cause.  
Although, as I gazed out of the spacecraft and down at the sprawling headquarters bustling with people-followers, I realized-I wondered how much attention I’d already received.  
“Here we are!” Iri exclaimed happily. “The Jet.”  
It quickly became apparent to me that the term Jet was a code word of sorts for this…monstrosity that the Onyx had managed to build. And then, of course, I came to the epiphany that Iri hadn’t meant jet as in the Midgardian airplane, but as the semiprecious black stone, which fit in with the theme that had been established based on my name.  
“Oh,” I said in realization, and then quickly clamped my mouth shut, but Iri had already heard. Thankfully, he interpreted it the wrong way.  
“I know. It’s pretty spectacular. I joined pretty recently because I wasn’t old enough-to tell you the truth I’m still sort of under the age limit, but close enough that the higher-ups let me join. They knew it was worth it, considering my engineering capabilities.” He said the words with no small amount of pride and I rolled my eyes. I’d heard this tirade plenty of times before.  
“Well, this, uh, thing is pretty impressive,” I agreed, patting the dashboard awkwardly. My throat was starting to burn from the deeper voice I was forcing out to fool Iri. Not to mention I usually enjoyed a nice cup of Kaj after a performance to soothe my vocal chords, what with all the yelling I had to do to be heard over the crowd. It seemed I’d have to play the brooding, silent type in order to minimize speaking. What with the silence and the black attire, I was sure to cut an intimidating figure.   
Iri preened at the compliment. “Just wait till you see it land. You’ve never seen a smoother spaceship.” I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. Compared to the technology in Dagson’s docking bay-and those were old models-a ride in Iri’s spaceship was barely smoother than a Hunvalp-pulled carriage. Although to be fair, I hadn’t yet seen it land. Perhaps he might surprise-  
All that kept me from tumbling forward was a hand braced on the wall as we practically crashed into a clearing the members of the Onyx must have carved out for Iri. Plumes of dust rose around the spaceship, the hull of which was half-buried in the ground. Iri frowned slightly.  
“Well. A bit rockier than usual, but-not bad, for my second landing.”  
“Second landing?” I repeated and then realized his first would’ve been after he had dropped me off near the forge. If it was anything like this one, it was a miracle he hadn’t utterly destroyed the Workplace.  
“Yeah, this is a newer invention,” he admitted, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s perfectly safe, of course.”  
“Of course,” I agreed smoothly, letting a hint of amusement through as I leaned forward and pressed a button on the dashboard. The door opened with a familiar hiss and I stepped into the bright afternoon sunlight. I was glad I had a hood to shield my eyes, though the light couldn’t be good for keeping up the disguise. Maybe I should wear a mask-  
“So, where too?” Iri asked, leaping out of the cockpit.  
“Hmm?” I grunted, still concerned over the practicality of my disguise.  
“Well, where do you want to go? The armory? Stables? Communication center?” Communication center? Gods above, how had I never heard about this place?  
“Ah,” I made a noise of uncertainty, about to run a hand through my hair before I realized that would entail de-hooding myself. It seemed the answer would be decided for me, however, by the crowd forming around us. Skalins from all walks of life began to congregate, staring at me with-awe? Confusion? Perhaps a mixture of the two. During my speeches I always found somewhere to stand, to perch high above the crowd. Detached. A savior from above and not-  
A spectacle. That was how it felt to have dozens of gazes roving over me in a sandy clearing with the sun sending rivulets of sweat down my back. A spectacle. I had never wanted to be a spectacle and the way they stared at me, expectantly-  
It had me wishing for the shadows I used to live in.  
ANSIGSLOE MANOR, 323 YEARS AGO  
It was dark. So dark, the purest black I’d ever seen. The thickest cover I could ever hope for as I stole in through a back door left ajar by a careless maid. Moonlight poured in through the kitchen windows, but I knew how to avoid it. I danced with moonlight-and sometimes, I felt I was made of it.  
Tonight I was. Tonight my steps were so weightless I could’ve been a wraith-no, not a wraith. Wraiths were ghostly white and I, I was a shadow, hidden within the folds of night. Although the manor was filled only with the heavy summer air, devoid of life, I was sure that if any eyes did peer in towards the kitchen, they would see only darkness. They would not notice the still warm roll of bread, set out for tomorrow’s breakfast, and how quickly it disappeared between my slender fingers. They would not hear as I greedily devoured it-so hungry. I was so hungry.  
For more than bread.  
I slipped from the kitchen into a hallway, alabaster columns glowing in the light from the windows. The corridor was empty as well, and yet I dropped to my knees anyway, crawling beneath the window panes. I told myself it was for practice, for safety in case of the unexpected onlooker-but my heart knew the truth.  
Thief, the moon seemed to whisper, its milky white face frowning upon me.   
Yes, I agreed, smiling at the stars.


	28. Chapter 28

LOKI  
As I looked down at our work, smiling, I almost felt bad for her.  
Almost.  
"Well, Loki," Dalla chuckled-she had yet to utilize my proper title, though, after everything we had accomplished together in regards to finally ensnaring Obsidia, I found within myself the ability to forgive her. "You asked for a trap, and you got one. A perfect one, if I dare say so."  
I found myself nodding to the word ‘perfect’, for once not afraid to let the taste of confidence spread across my tongue. "Oh yes," Dagson purred, leering down at the maps positioned across the tabletop. "She will not slip away from me this time."  
That confidence, that taste as sweet as ripe fruit, soured in my mouth at the word me. "You realize," I said, speaking slowly, carefully, "that this means neither you nor any member of your army can be present-can be involved in any way, shape, or form when we meet her. It would mean disaster for the plan."  
A furrow appeared between Dagson's eyes and my gaze sharpened, unforgiving, but he responded before I could begin describing the gruesome punishment he would face if he were to ruin this for me-for us, rather. "Of course I understand, M'lord. We have full confidence in your abilities-I am sure neither you nor your brother will require our assistance."  
"We most certainly will not," I growled with finality, reaching down to roll the maps up. Perhaps it was paranoid, unnecessary, but I didn't want anyone outside this room to even have the slightest inkling of the meeting that had just taken place. I had made that much clear to everyone behind these doors once I had locked them. And although my meaning had been quite lucid-and my threats quite real-there was still one member of the group that made me uneasy as he stood and turned towards the door eagerly.  
Gaerhialm Hamingsson’s shoulders popped as he stretched them, grunting at the stiffness hours of inactivity must have caused. During the course of our very lengthy meeting, he had been content to provide flippant comments throughout the discussion, gaze at his cuticles, and be nothing but a hindrance in general when he let the animosity between himself and Dagson grow. But the Skalin lord had assured me of his competence and loyalty as a commander-  
"Even if he is rather irreverent," I had recalled Dagson snarling with a blood-thirsty look cast at the warrior, who had at the time been lounging on the settee. Unsurprisingly, Gaerhialm hadn’t deigned to respond.  
As for the rest of the party, well-Dalla I had no qualms about; she was a veritable genius, when she wasn't engaging in arm wrestles with my idiot brother. Thor had attempted to help, in his own pathetic way, but of course, this was a situation that required finesse and intelligence, two attributes he was lacking in, to say the least.  
If nothing else, Dagson knew his city. I trusted that the maps we had sketched based on his descriptions would be accurate. Whether any of his information regarding Obsidia could be trusted was another matter entirely, a conclusion I had come to upon seeing how far removed he became from any logical thought when he spoke of her. Considering I had been in Skali for all of three days and every waking thought was now focused around Obsidia’s death, I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t begin to imagine what chasing her for two hundred years felt like. Regardless of whatever sympathy I felt, I took every word of his with a grain of salt. I found a far more reliable source in his daughter.  
Una, yes, Una had been irreplaceable. Her mother was as sharp as a blade, but Una thought in a way entirely her own. Some of the conclusions she drew based on Obsidia’s previous actions were more insightful than anything Dalla, or even I could’ve come up with. She spoke with such authority as if she knew Obsidia herself, and that familiarity would be an important quality once we captured the criminal and began the interrogation process. That was another worrying matter-Thor would surely be opposed to any overly zealous torture, though I knew Dagson would side with me-  
The vigilante would pay for her crimes.  
A battle for another time, I assured myself, though if all went to plan, that time would come soon. And as I tucked the scrolls into my sleeves, I could taste something even sweeter than confidence in my mouth.  
Victory.


	29. Chapter 29

THOR  
“Thor!” I turned around to see the small figure that was Dalla Kispin hurrying down the hallway. Well, perhaps small was the wrong word-she was short, but there was power in her toned arms and broad shoulders. Not to mention her very big personality. “Could you wait just a second? I wanted to...speak with you.”  
I clasped my hands together as she picked up the hem of her dress and ran towards me-my considerable stride had already taken me halfway down the hall. I noticed that beneath the fine fabric and hidden under thick layers, Lady Dagson was wearing riding boots scuffed with mud and age. I felt the corner of my mouth turn up, marveling at just how similar she was to her daughter-though Una had yet to grow into her title and the responsibility it entailed, it seemed.  
Said daughter had just left the room and was now arguing with Kispin at the other end of the hallway. She kept glancing over her shoulder at us, but her father had a firm grip on her arm. I wondered if Dalla knew about the training yet. I wondered if Kispin knew. Surely not, or else I had a feeling Una would be locked in her room right now, forced to do needlepoint under penalty of death.  
"What was it you wanted to speak about?" I asked as Dalla drew closer, unheeding of the fight brewing between her husband and Una. Perhaps she simply didn't care; the father daughter dynamic I had witnessed made it seem as though they fought often.  
Dalla gazed up at me, the most peculiar look entering her eyes. Her lips parted thoughtfully. "You really don't remember, do you?" she murmured.  
"I'm sorry?" I inquired, eyebrow raised.   
"Nothing, nothing," she muttered with a sharp shake of her head. "That's not why I'm here, anyway. What I wanted to talk about was our dear king's latest obsession."  
"Obsidia?" I grunted in confusion. "If you had something to say about her, you should say it in front of everyone. We’re all involved in the plan, aren’t we?"  
The lines in Dalla’s forehead deepened. "No, no, no. What I have to say must remain between you and me. Can you promise me that it will?"  
My eyes widened and I found my thoughts circling back to my brother, as they often did these days. My brother, whom I was trying so hard to trust again. I was constantly worried that he was keeping secrets from me, so how could I be so hypocritical as to keep one from him?  
"It's nothing overly serious," Dalla assured me, her expression smoothing over. "You wouldn't be...conspiring against the others if that's what troubles you."  
That did ease my conscience, although it was a tad unnerving how easily Dalla had read the expression on my face. Was I truly that obvious? "Well, as long as we're not conspirators," I chuckled, gesturing down the hallway. Dalla's lips twisted into a self-assured smirk.  
"Ah, I knew you'd come around," she laughed, patting me on the back with such force I nearly toppled over. "Let us go somewhere with no....prying eyes if you know what I mean." She started off down the hallway again, and even with my long gait, it was an effort to keep up. That woman walked with conviction.  
We rounded the corner, looking for all the world like we intended to take a stroll in the garden. If Loki saw us, he'd surely assume I was engaging in the "useless niceties" he so deeply despised. And if Kispin saw us, well-  
Kispin was welcome to think whatever he wanted, as long as he didn't forget I was a prince.   
And princes were more powerful than lords.  
"In here," Dalla whispered, throwing open a door on the other side of the hall. Plain wooden beams stood out against the extravagant guild of the surrounding wall, and as I followed her inside I found that the interior largely matched the ex-terior. Dusty floors and shelves, a few chairs scattered around, but no tables-I had no idea what the room's original purpose had been, but clearly, it had suffered years of disuse.  
"Thick walls," Dalla muttered, patting the stone next to her. "They shouldn't be able to hear us now." She whirled around, and I suddenly got the sense that perhaps this meeting was centered around a topic of importance, regardless of her assurances. "I'm worried. About Obsidia."  
"Oh!" I exclaimed, my concern melting away. "Well Dalla, we're all worried about Obsidia, but Loki and I will certainly be able to capture her with the plan we concocted-you concocted. You don't need to concern yourself over that.”   
Dalla released a heavy sigh, the sound laced with annoyance. "That's not what I meant, Odinson." I raised an eyebrow at the extraordinarily informal greeting, but I let the comment go considering the state Dalla seemed to be in. I suppose I should've expected her to have concerns, however irrational they may have been. She had the look of a warrior about her, but she had been raised as a lady, practiced in the skills of flattery and elegance, not courage-  
"I'm worried for Obsidia."  
"What in Hel is that supposed to mean?" I snorted. Dalla narrowed her eyes.  
"Not so loud, you absolute-" My pointed look stopped her from uttering whatever unsavory word she had been ready to use. "I mean," she began, slowly, "that if you and Loki do catch Obsidia, she might be subject to a fate worse than death."  
The ire growing in the pit of my stomach at her tone fizzled out at the phrase "worse than death." I hadn't considered what would come after capture. I had always assumed Loki's rage would be sated with the vigilante safely imprisoned. But now that I thought about it-  
I knew my brother better than that.  
Only blood would satisfy him.  
I didn't think he would kill her, but-torture?   
Quite possible.  
I wet my lips, throat suddenly dry. "Surely...surely we could talk him out of it. The townspeople would be furious if such a fate befell their hero. She is adored by all." And I knew even better than Dalla exactly how adored she was.  
"Not if they didn't know," Lady Dagson pointed out. "Your brother is the master of deception, is he not? I'm sure he could pull some excuse out of his...out of that big brain of his," she corrected when she saw my warning expression, "as to why Obsidia can’t be kept in the public jail. Some nonsense about how extremely dangerous she is-"  
"She is extremely dangerous. She beat me in combat."  
Dalla waved a hand through the air. "Oh, that's not that difficult."  
“What do you mean it’s not-” I protested, but she was already plowing through my interruption. "He'll give some reason why he has to take her back to Asgard, and in the capitol…”  
“He’ll be able to do as he pleases,” I finished grimly.  
“She'll be beyond our help.”  
"You seem awfully intent on helping her," I pointed out, though the accusation had no venom behind it. The Lady’s words were true, regardless of whether I wanted to hear them. If I left Obsidia to such a fate, criminal or not-  
What sort of prince would I be?  
"Because she's a child, Thor," Dalla hissed, leaning forward as if proximity would emphasize her point.  
"W-what?" The word came out warbled, strained. Child? It hadn't been a child that had defeated me.  
"She's not more than 1,250," Dalla replied.  
"That's...that's hardly a child," I began, but a roll of the lady's eyes had me faltering once more.  
"It's too young," she insisted. "Too young to be tortured. To be served justice at the hands of such a vindictive king."  
"My brother is not vindictive," I snapped, the urge to defend my blood overpowering reason. Well, he wasn't my blood, not really, but-  
The urge was still there.  
"You truly believe that, Thor?" Dalla scoffed, her features twisting into a sneer. "There's a reason I came to you for this. You know your brother better than anyone. You know what he's capable of. Perhaps he's usually reasonable, but after the stunt that girl just pulled, humiliating him in front of his own subjects? He is furious. Any man's morals can be compromised if he is angry enough."  
I looked down at my hands, my fingers interlocking and untwining. "I..." I ran a hand through my hair, strands of gold settling across my forehead, and released a sigh. It failed to release any of the tension building in my shoulders, in my chest. "Well, what do you expect me to do about it, Dalla?" I opened my hands, palms up, pleading, eyes beseeching even as I said the words with an underlying vein of anger. "Sabotage the plan? Let her go free?"  
"That's not a terrible idea," she muttered.  
"Dalla!"  
"No, no, you don't have to let her go free, per se," she mumbled, folding her arms across her chest. The unyielding steel in her message seemed to be bending under the pressure of determining the logistics of what she was suggesting. "Just...talk to him, Thor. Make sure you've made your position clear before you do this. Let him know you won't stand by and allow an innocent to be tortured."  
"She's not an innocent," I sputtered, but again Dalla cut me off.  
"She exposes criminals. Perhaps she goes about it the wrong way, but...she's too young." And with that Dalla exited the room, leaving me to mull over the crisis I now faced.  
Because I knew I held no sway over my brother. Loki would never listen to me.


End file.
